All Things Come To An End
by John Baum
Summary: A story set at the end of Adam Raised a Cain that diverts from the show's plotline when a mysterious visitor from the future changes everything...
1. The Arrest

**ALL THINGS COME TO AN END**

 **CHAPTER ONE: THE ARREST**

" _I can't shoot a lady!"_

" _Give me that gun!"_

The cinema, just like all cinemas during screening, was dark. One could hardly make out the faces of the people seated there.

"You think he'll come?" Cameron said softly while being turned around on her seat to face Sarah.

"He'll come," Sarah responded simply.

"He could be deceiving us. He's done it before."

"He wants the girl. He'll be here," Sarah said while motioning in Savanah's direction.

"And what if he doesn't come through? With the meeting with Weaver?"

"We're going to Zeira Corp, with or without him… When we're done, it will be ashes."

Ellison had appeared at the entrance, which made Cameron stand up and walk down the aisle towards him.

Having found Sarah with his eyes, Ellison exchanged his look with hers. Cameron walked past him to guard the entrance.

Ellison walked up the aisle and took Cameron's seat, not looking at Sarah and staring ahead instead.

"You alone?" Sarah probed.

"Yes. Where's Savanah?"

"Row J."

"I'll be in touch about the meeting," Ellison said before standing up.

Sarah and Cameron looked at each other over the distance of the screening room.

Ellison made his way down the aisle to where Savanah was seated and offered her his hand. She slid her tiny hand into his and got up.

Leaving the cinema screening room Sarah noticed a man in a dark blue jacket, standing at the counter of the snack bar. _Just a regular guy._ Beams of white light passing through the translucent exit door of the cinema emphasized her athletic silhouette.

When Sarah walked past him, the man left his position at the bar and started following her. Walking towards the exit door, a feeling of something not being quite right shot through Sarah's mind. When she pushed the door out of her way she could see why. The front of the cinema was sprawling with police cars and policemen aiming their pistols at her, undoubtedly prepared to shoot should she decide to draw her own gun. Ellison must have double-crossed them, she thought. _That son-of-a-bitch!_

"Put your hands behind your head. Kneel on the ground." A detective in a khaki suit said in the megaphone in his hand.

Turning around, Sarah could see that the man she saw at the snack bar was now aiming his gun at her. _Bastard_.

There was no escape. Sarah just raised her hands. She glanced back to watch John and Cameron stand in the closing door. _John! Run!_ She was trapped like an animal, but she thought that she could at least buy them some time. She charged at the approaching officer, effectively knocking him to the ground, and punching the other one and knocking him out as well. She ran forward, down the short set of stairs, between the parked police cars, where she was wrestled to the ground by two policemen. Shifting herself on top of one of them and kicking the other one to the chest and throwing him back against the police car, it was the least she could do in this situation. _Run John! Please!_ Thoughts of her son raced through her mind.

The cinema door had closed, and John turned around to look at Ellison with a mix of shock and anger.

"John, I swear I didn't know." Ellison said calmly, which only made John more furious. He charged at him while yelling "I'll kill you!" Cameron stopped him before he could reach Ellison. "Let go of me! I'll kill you!" Pointing towards where his mother was now being handcuffed, John finally just said "I'll kill you." Then he and Cameron rushed past him and Savanah, who gave Ellison a confused look.

Stepping out of the building, Ellison could see the consequences of his unintentional doing. The police was simply following him without his knowledge of it. Sarah's body was rocking on the ground under the beats and kicks of the angered policemen. Finally, handcuffs clicked on her wrists and she was pushed on the back seat of the police car.

 _BREAKING NEWS_

 _FUGITIVE SARAH CONNOR ARRESTED TODAY IN LOS ANGELES_

Sarah's face could be seen live on all TV screens across LA. One of these screens was also being watched by John and Cameron who stood in front of a store window located in a safe distance from the cinema. Seeing his mother like this, John could barely hold back tears. Flashes from cameras played across Sarah's face. The policemen who led her from the car had to push the success-hungry reporters out of their way. When John saw in the corner of his eye that Cameron had turned to face him, he nodded to her and together they turned away from the store window to walk back to their car.

* * *

Savanah was led inside the Zeira Corp building by Detective Crayton, which caught the attention of most of the bystanders in the lobby. Savanah finally got to see her mother. She ran to her while holding her toy giraffe in her hand. She jumped to her mother's embrace, crying tears of relief. Weaver wore her blank terminator face and stroked Savanah's back to comfort her, not really knowing what else to do.

Moments later, Weaver stood in her office. Outside was still a sunny day, the streets down below sprawling with traffic. Weaver observed the odd, yet somehow organized human behavior when she heard a knock on her office door.

"Come in."

The door opened to reveal James Ellison.

"Ms. Weaver, you wanted to see me."

"Yes, sit down James."

Weaver sat down on her chair while Ellison took the one in front of her desk.

"Is Savannah alright?"

"Yes, she is with Detective Crayton now. He's asking her questions about her kidnappers."

"I see."

"I wanna meet him."

"Detective Crayton?" Ellison asked with a slight confusion on his face.

"The boy."

"You wanna meet John Connor?" Ellison tilted his head.

"Someone's attacked my family. They may attack again... I think he knows something."

Then she added, "And besides, he saved my daughter. And I want to thank him."

Ellison looked around as if searching the room for anyone who might be listening.

"It's a bad idea. I don't know what you think John knows."

"I _know_ -" Weaver raised her voice slightly – an unusual act for her.

"That he was at my house when the attacker showed up. I want to know why," She continued.

She shifted her gaze from Ellison to somewhere outside the building, as if deep in thought.

"His mother thinks he's a messiah."

She looked back to Ellison. "I want to know why.

And despite your reluctance to tell me, I surmise that he and his cyber companion are connected to the John Henry body."

Ellison sighed to himself, growing uncomfortable under his employer's gaze.

"And I want to know why," Weaver continued as Ellison squinted his eyes at her.

"Yes, she's a cyborg. Don't pretend you didn't know," Weaver said accusingly.

Ellison took a moment to respond. "She's dangerous."

Weaver smiled. "And you think I need protecting. That's sweet…" Her smile faded away abrubtly when she added: "But don't ever lie to me again… Now, about John Connor…"

"I don't know how to find him," Ellison countered coolly.

"Well I do…," she smirked mysteriously as she turned her laptop to show Ellison a live feed from John Henry's room.

* * *

The sun was beginning to set on the Western horizon in front of the car. Long amber stripes were painting everything an orange hue, making John's frown appear even deeper. Cameron was keeping the monotonously car just at the speed limit, making John feel sleepy. Of all the feelings, he felt tiredness the most. He just stared out of the car window, and began to muse. It all slowly started to get to him. Charlie was dead. Only days ago, John was enjoying his delicious fish soup at the lighthouse. And now Derek was dead too. Shot by a terminator. The two men who were the closest to being his father figures were gone, just like that. _Mom…_ , John thought. Everything has happened so fast. Everyone in his life was now gone. _Everyone_.

 _Everyone except Cameron, who... is a robot_...- John glanced at her, and she gave him a blank look back before setting her eyes back at the road. - _Who isn't even a person... Or is she? Something's going on with her..._

 _What if I just ended it once and for all? Just one painful moment, and that's it. What's the fucking point of living this life? What have I accomplished so far? Wherever I go, there's a trail of blood and dead bodies behind me… If only I-_

"-John."

 _If only I could take it all back… Find another time machine, and-_

"-John." Cameron's voice suddenly interrupted his train of thought.

"Huh?" Quickly looking around John realized they must have reached the motel.

"We have to go…" Cameron said flatly.

* * *

 _Apache_

MOTEL

Green and red neon light of the motel sign glowed in the dark that has fallen on Los Angeles after the sunset. Everything was quiet, all that could be heard was the chirping of crickets and the distant hum of cars on the highway.

Cameron stood in the window, observing the outside – her face hued red and green by the neon sign. Behind her, John was pacing around the TV in their motel room, visibly nervous.

 _BREAKING NEWS_

 _FUGITIVE SARAH CONNOR ARRESTED TODAY IN LOS ANGELES_

" _Sarah Connor was arrested and is now in local custody, facing a series of new charges, as well as all of the old ones. Authorities are also on the lookout for Connor's son John, as well as an unidentified female accomplice."_

The image on the screen changed from various shots of Sarah to a photo of all three of them, taken in 1999 in the bank where they time jumped.

" _What you see here is a photo dating back eight years. Both fugitives would now be in their mid-twenties."_

"We need to get her back," John mumbled.

"Making a move within 24 hours of the incident has high risk factors."

"This is not an incident! This is my mother," John growled.

"You miss her, I understand…" Cameron said innocently.

"Oh yeah? _How_ do you understand that? You're _machine._ "

"You're now in the process of grieving. In the last three days, you've lost three people that were important to you."

John was surprised both by her understanding and her bluntness about it, which calmed him a little.

"Well she is not dead. We _can_ and have to get her back…"

* * *

 _I just got down from the Isle of Skye_

 _I'm not very big, but I'm awful shy_

 _the lassies shout as I walk by,_

 _"Donald, Where's Your Trousers?"_

The local news were still abuzz with the today's arrest of Sarah Connor, repeatedly showing shots of her being led from the police car.

 _Let the wind blow high let the wind blow low,_

 _through the streets in my kilt I'll go,_

 _all the lassies cry, "Hello!_

 _Donald, where's your trousers?"_

On that same day, Derek Reese was buried in an unnamed grave, in the same place where the remains of his brother Kyle laid. At least something on that day was how it should be.

 _I went to a fancy ball,_

 _It was slippery in the hall,_

 _I was afeared that I may fall,_

 _Because I nay had on trousers,_

In their motel room John and Cameron discussed Sarah's rescue. John visibly angry and upset, pacing around the room, Cameron still standing by the window, responding with a blank face as usual.

 _Let the wind blow high let the wind blow low,_

 _Through the streets in my kilt I'll go,_

 _All the lassies cry, "Hello!_

 _Donald, where's your trousers?"_

Sarah was sitting in her cell, dressed in orange prison overalls, thinking and worrying about the only thing that truly mattered to her – her son… _John._

 _The lassies love me every one,_

 _But they must catch me if they can,_

 _You canna put the breeks on a highland man, saying,_

 _"Donald, where's your trousers?"_

Savannah was sitting in front of John Henry, her freckled face made even paler by the lighting of his basement room. Her face bore a bright smile when she began to sign along with John Henry.

 _Let the wind blow high let the wind blow low,_

 _Through the streets in my kilt I'll go,_

 _All the lassies cry, "Hello!_

 _Donald, where's your trousers?"_

Weaver secretly stood in the door, observing "her daughter" sign in unison with "her son".

 _I went down to London town,_

 _To have a little fun in the underground,_

 _All the Ladies turned their heads around, saying,_

 _"Donald, where's your trousers?"_

Ellison sat on the couch in his living room, staring ahead. In his hand, a glass of scotch. He didn't drink alcohol, but for times like these, he had a bottle of scotch stored in his cabinet. He sighed while pouring himself another glass. _Tough day._

 _Let the wind blow high let the wind blow low,_

 _Through the streets in my kilt I'll go,_

 _All the lassies cry, "Hello!_

 _"Donald, where's your trousers?"_

John and Cameron silently stood in front of the TV, their attention drawn completely to its screen.

 _Let the wind blow high let the wind blow low,_

 _Through the streets in my kilt I'll go,_

 _All the lassies cry, "Hello!_

 _"Donald, where's your trousers?"_

" _Just an hour ago, a 'strange blue ball of sparkling energy' was observed on the beach of Santa Monica. According to witnesses, an unknown man appeared in place of the strange sphere. Police authorities dismiss this strange event with a combination of a ball lightning phenomena and heavy drinking of alcohol and possibly hallucinogenic drugs…"_

 _"Donald, where's your trousers?"_

* * *

 ** _Author's Notes: Hello and thank you for reading! If you're new to this story, I kindly encourage you to keep reading! This story starts slow, but soon completely derails from the events of the show and introduces its own ideas. Are you ready to embark on a "what if" journey full of mystery, tension, character development and wonder?_**

 ** _Thank you for your time. :)_**

 ** _PS: Please Review! All opinions, positive or negative, regarding the story or my writing will be highly appreciated!_**


	2. A Machine's Heart

**CHAPTER TWO: A MACHINE'S HEART**

"… _The phenomenon left a visible mark in the sand – a large circle of fire and molten sand, suggesting extreme temperatures taking place at the site."_

John stared wordlessly at the news report, a surge of adrenaline flowing through his veins. _Another visitor from the future?_

Even though Cameron looked at the TV screen with her usual stoic expression, her mouth hung slightly open, leading John to thinking that even she was upset.

John was frowning. _Well that's just fucking great!_

"Did Future Me plan to send anyone else after you?" He inquired as he turned his face to Cameron's, who did the same.

"I don't know." Cameron said honestly while looking at him with her typical deep brown-eyed gaze.

"What do you mean? I thought you knew about all mission plans of the Resistance?" John asked with a puzzled look on his face.

Cameron gave him one of her long doe-eye looks, "The future I come from no longer exists… There is no way of knowing what the future looks like now."

John broke eye contact and took a moment to process this. Then he shifted his look back to Cameron "So, as far as we know, it could be another killing machine sent after me." He said irritably.

"Yes." She replied flatly, then looked at the TV screen and added, "It is safe to assume so."

As soon as Cameron finished her sentence they both heard a _knock_ on their motel room door…

* * *

Matt Murch was working late that day. His boss, Ms. Weaver, was making him work hard on some improvements to John Henry's hardware as well as his firewall protection system – all thanks to the recent cyber-attack their AI had suffered from the hands of its mysterious "brother". He stood behind the "human" body of John Henry, discussing something with his employer.

"…So, basically, what I'm saying is: We change a wire, we change John Henry." Murch explained to her.

"I see…" Weaver replied with interest in her eyes. They both turned their heads as Ellison appeared in the door, visibly not in the greatest of moods.

"Mr. Ellison, welcome back," Weaver greeted him enthusiastically.

"Ms. Weaver, you wanted to see me?"

"Mr. Murch, please leave us. You may go home now." Weaver motioned to Murch.

"Yes ma'am." Murch complied and turned on his heel to march out of the door.

When he got out of sight and out of their hearing range, Weaver explained why she had called Ellison this late to come back to work, "John Henry has found the whereabouts of John Connor and his cyborg."

Ellison wasn't looking very impressed. "Look, I was just about to go to bed. Can't this wait until tomorrow morning?" he replied with a slightly annoyed tone.

" **It can't.** " John Henry and Weaver countered in perfect unison, giving each other an intrigued look. Ellison frowned at this with confusion written on his face.

"They may choose to relocate soon. Now is our best chance." Weaver continued her argument and angled herself slightly to observe the live footage of the Apache Motel displayed on the wall.

"Okay, what do you need me to say?" Ellison asked with a sigh.

"I need you to arrange a meeting with him. I need to talk to him and his protector," Weaver said while still being turned away from Ellison, looking at the projection.

"Ms. Weaver, with all the due respect, I think you've no idea who you're dealing with. These people… they're dangerous. John Connor will never go and see you without his mother."

Weaver turned around to walk to where John Henry sat, looking at Ellison, her high heels clanking against the floor.

"Well, if that is the case…," she said as she looked deep into Ellison's eyes with a serious tone.

"I need you to say this to his cyborg: Will you join us?"

"Okay…" Ellison replied slowly with a slight frown. "Anything else?" he added with his body already turned to leave the room.

"Mr. Ellison, you _must_ deliver the message exactly as I said it…," Weaver said seriously and put her hand on John Henry's shoulder. "John Henry's survival depends on it," she added as she looked at her "son" hopefully.

Ellison frowned confusingly first at John Henry and then at Weaver. "Yes, of course," he said before turning completely to walk out of the room.

"And James…" Weaver stopped him, then added with a smile, "Thank him for saving my daughter Savanah."

* * *

As soon as he heard the knock on their door, John jumped for his pistol, which was unusually laid on the nightstand and not tucked in his pants. Cameron cocked her shotgun and stepped to the door, looking back to John, who prepared his aim and nodded.

The door opened and revealed a girl's face. It was her, the Latino girl from Carlos' gang, looking at them innocently.

"Good evening," she said finally as John lowered his aim.

"I've got a message for you. May I?" she explained and motioned inside their room.

Cameron stepped aside to let her in.

The girl stepped in and looked at John who motioned at a chair for her to sit on. John then took a seat in front of her, across a small table. She silently pulled out a brown envelope from her purse, laid it on the table and looked at John.

John took the hint and opened the envelope, pulling out an assortment of new fake IDs and passports for him and Cameron. He glanced at the girl and quickly started sifting through the pages of Cameron's passport. He stopped at Cameron's photo. She looked pretty on it. If John didn't know better, he would have assumed she was just a normal, cute teenage girl. The passport stated that she was born 11th December 1991, her new name being Emily Gage. Then he started flipping the pages again as if he was looking for something. He frowned, took his own passport and did the same.

"What's wrong?" Cameron asked. "The IDs are flawless."

"They're flawless," she repeated as she looked at the messenger girl.

The girl moved her gaze from Cameron to John.

"There's nothing else there," she stated calmly.

"There is nothing hidden there," she said to repeat her point.

John looked utterly disappointed with slightly open mouth and hurt in his eyes.

The girl continued, "No secret message there for her escape… I am to tell you this – from your mother: Leave this place. As soon as it is safe, leave this place…"

John's eyes dropped.

"Do not think of her. Do not come for her. Leave," she added.

He frowned.

The girl looked up at Cameron. "You are to make sure that he does." Cameron just stared back in silence as the girl shifted her eyes back to John's.

John's frown deepened. He scoffed slightly and looked away from the girl to express his disappointment.

The girl got up and turned to John. "We lose everybody we love."

John shot his eyes at her with a faint hope on his face. "She said that…?"

"No," the girl shook her head.

John's eyes dropped again as the girl headed for the door. Before she opened the door, Cameron called after her, "Hasta luego." The girl replied with a look into Cameron's eyes and closed the door behind her.

John didn't say a word and just dropped his head slightly, staring at the table, deep in thought, as Cameron walked around him towards the window, still clutching her shotgun in her right hand. She looked out the window and observed something outside with a slight of curiosity written on her face.

"That's interesting," she said mysteriously as John looked at her with a puzzled face.

She didn't explain further and instead just walked out of their room.

A moment later she returned with Ellison, dragging him by his suit jacket as if she caught a thief. She sat him down on the chair in front of John more violently than was necessary while eyeing him with her cold machine stare – for which she earned an accusing look from Ellison.

"Let me repeat," Ellison said as he straightened his suit jacket, "I had nothing to do with your mother's arrest."

Cameron walked to John's side as Ellison continued, "If I had…," he looked at her and back at John, "…there'd be a SWAT team outside your door right now."

John wore a determined, strict face as he said, "And the same thing would happen to the SWAT team as happened to your last one."

Before responding, Ellison looked up at Cameron who stared at him with her cold, machine glare.

"Catherine Weaver would like to meet you," he said as he veered his eyes back to John.

"Why?" John asked, not relenting from his distrustful stare.

"She wants to thank you for saving Savannah."

"Well she just did," John retorted.

"Your mother wanted to meet her."

"When my mother gets out, trust me, she will."

Ellison shook his head, the corners of his lips tugging upwards slightly as if he was telling his boss telepathically ' _I told you'_. "I told Ms. Weaver you'll never come without your mom…She said, if that was the case, I'm supposed to ask one question…"

John tilted his head.

"She says I'm supposed to ask you…," Ellison continued and gave Cameron an important look.

"Will you Join us?" He paused. "She says she hopes you'll know what that means," he continued when Cameron didn't say anything.

John frowned slightly as he turned his head in Cameron's direction, not looking up into her eyes, "Do you know what that means?"

Cameron's head twitched slightly as if she was processing something, "No. I don't." John looked back at Ellison as Cameron said, "Please leave now Mr. Ellison, I think you've said enough."

"John…," Ellison protested pleadingly. _Come on_.

Cameron repeated, "You've said enough Mr. Ellison. I won't ask you again," she added threateningly with ice in her voice, boring her eyes deep into Ellison.

Ellison exchanged his look with John for the last time before he stood up and walked towards the door. Before the door closed behind him, he shot John his last look as if he was checking whether John had changed his mind.

John finally stood up from his chair to pull back the curtain slightly and watch Ellison leave.

"He upset you," Cameron stated flatly.

John turned from the window to eye her accusingly, "Me? I think he upset you."

Cameron tilted her head in her usual way before replying, "You know that's impossible."

John scoffed and took a step closer to her, "Is it?"

"You said it yourself John, I'm just a machine," Cameron responded with a voice that sounded like she was hurt.

"You're changing. You've changed," Both John's voice and look softened.

"I learn," she replied simply.

"It's more than that. I don't know… Something's going on with you," John said with a concerned face as he stepped even closer to her, now just inches from her body.

Cameron shifted her look away before she locked her eyes onto his again and said, "You should get some sleep John, you haven't slept for 15 hours and 36 minutes…"

John sighed, "Great, now you're acting just like my mother." He looked around the room, "I need a computer. I need to do research."

"You want the blueprints for the Los Angeles County jail," Cameron stated stoically.

"Do I?" John retorted with a slight annoyance in his voice.

"So you can plan how to get your mother out. But I'm not gonna let you do that, you should know that by now."

"I do know that by now."

"Then what is there to research?"

John looked deep into Cameron's eyes, "Power sources. Shielded nuclear power sources," he explained.

Cameron's eyes dropped to the ground, "Like mine?" She asked with an innocent voice.

"Just like yours," John nodded.

"Why?" Cameron asked as she looked into his eyes again.

"I wanna know if being around them all the time can give you cancer."

Cameron remained silent and kept looking at John with what looked like a hint of hurt.

"How much weight has she lost?" He finally said.

Cameron tilted her head at John, just like she always did when there was something she didn't understand.

John sighed, "You think she has cancer because she's lost weight, so how much weight has she lost?"

"Eleven percent of her body mass in the last six weeks."

John turned his back on Cameron to turn off the TV, then stood in front of it and angled his head in Cameron's direction. "She was healthy before you showed up…," then turned completely, "That's all I know. She was healthy."

"If my power source was leaking radiation, I would know. I have sensors for that."

John eyed her curiously, "Where are they?"

"You can't see them," she responded simply.

John chuckled sarcastically, "Of course not. I'll just have to trust you on it." Then he continued, "But stuff does go wrong with you, doesn't it?"

Cameron looked at him in silence, her face blank as usual.

"Stuff breaks, you kill birds, you twitch…," he gave her a serious look, "You try to murder me…"

Cameron was still looking at him without any words. This time, however, it looked as if her face revealed a tiny hint of emotional pain. _Can she feel hurt, or I am just imagining things?_

John sighed and stepped towards the bed as he said, "I really need to get some sleep…"

Cameron turned her face at him as he sat down on the bed, "Your mother was to die of cancer in 2005."

"What?" John shot his head up.

"When we time-jumped, we jumped over it…," then she explained further, "But we didn't bypass the chance of her getting cancer," as she moved next to his bed.

John sized her up, frowning slightly and wondering what she was about to do. _Whatever_ , he thought as he shifted on the bed to make space for her, lacing his fingers together behind his head and resting against the headboard.

Without a word, Cameron took off her jacket and laid next to him, crossing her hands on her abdomen, her black T-shirt wrapping her perfect body tightly.

John started to feel nervous, but decided not to do anything and just stared at her. _Why do I feel this way around her?_

"I'm sorry. I should have told you," Cameron looked straight ahead as she broke the silence.

"Well… I guess it doesn't matter now, does it?" John sighed with a shaky voice.

"It does matter. She's important to you," Cameron said as she bore her brown eyes deep into his.

John refocused his stare at the ceiling, and let out a long and calm breath through his nose before saying, "Well… she's my mother… and she's also pretty much the only person I've ever really had in my life since I was born… and now she's gone," he said musingly.

Cameron studied him carefully, still boring her eyes into him. "We'll get her back," she said finally as she stopped staring at him and looked in front of her instead.

John looked at her for a moment, dumbstruck and not knowing what to say. "You sure?" he asked, looking at her.

"Yes," Cameron replied, returning his look. "Don't worry about it, everything will be fine" she added with a smile.

His mouth twitched slightly. "Thank you, Cameron," he finally broke the momentary silence with a smile as he put his hand on hers. Her skin felt soft and warm.

Cameron looked at his hand curiously.

John retracted his hand shyly before saying, "I'm gonna go to sleep now, good night."

"Good night," she said as she stood up to guard him during his sleep.

Despite having experienced so much stress, John drifted off to sleep almost instantly as drops of rain started pelting all surfaces outside the motel.

* * *

The air was still damp; it had stopped raining only half an hour ago. The guard of the ZeiraCorp building parking lot was sitting on his chair in his office, his legs rested on the desk. The room held several screens with security footage from various places of the parking lot. One of the screens was showing a man and a woman performing a very compromising act on the hood of one of the cars – they certainly were not aware of the security camera behind their backs.

 _Oh yeah, baby!_ The guard thought as he watched the action.

A sudden movement on one of the screens caught his attention – a car drove at high speed directly through the entrance gate of the parking lot.

 _What the fuck!_ The guard quickly got to his feet.

A moment later he left the elevator and saw a man stepping out of the vehicle in question.

"Hey! You the guy who smashed through my gate?!"

"Yes," replied the man matter-of-factly before he pulled out one of his silenced pistols and shot the guard multiple times in the chest, making him drop dead to the floor.

A woman with red hair appeared just a few steps from the armed man.

"Hey! I liked that gate," she said.

"Catherine Weaver?" Inquired the man with a robotic voice.

"Sure."

He aimed both his pistols at her chest and unleashed a storm of bullets.

To his surprise, the woman didn't even flinch. He watched, head tilted slightly to the side as she looked down at her "silver wounds" closing with a slithering sound.

In a matter of seconds, her torso looked like she was never hit. She lifted her right arm which transformed into a vicious-looking spear. With this silver spear, she impaled his chest while transforming her other arm into another spear and thrusting that one into a nearby power conduit, using her body to channel the electricity into the terminator and forcing him offline.

She knelt to the now dropped terminator and transformed one of her hands into a sharp scalpel. With surgical precision, she cut into his scalp, peeling back some of his skin to reveal the CPU port. After she had successfully popped open the port and pulled out the chip, however, a sudden flash and hissing sound emitted from the chip, charring its surface completely.

"Interesting," Weaver mused to herself.

* * *

Morning rays beamed through the window of the room. John stirred from his slumber to what smelled like burned pancakes. _Mom?_ Disoriented and confused about his current location, he opened one eye to take in his surroundings. It was just then when he saw a blurry figure sitting on the edge of the bed. He jolted and nearly jumped off the bed. _It's just her, you fool._ He relaxed and quickly realized that he was still in the same motel room, now propped up on his elbows, lying on the same bed, sensing the smell of mildew, cigarettes and old bedsheets that, for some reason, reminded him of his mom's pancakes.

Cameron sat on his bed, her right leg curled underneath the other one. She was watching him intently.

"Don't do that," he frowned and sighed, "My mom used to do that, I really hate that."

Cameron didn't stop watching him.

"What's going on?" He probed.

"You need to understand how it works."

John gave her a curious look, "What?"

"This chip. This body. The software is designed to terminate humans. The hardware is designed to terminate humans. That's our sole function," she said as if she wanted to remind him that she wasn't the ordinary teenage girl he seemed to think she was last night.

"Not you," John objected.

"No. Not anymore. But was there is still there," she said, not wavering from her gaze into his eyes. "And it will always be there."

"So down deep, you wanna kill me."

"Yes. I do."

John shifted from his half-laying position to sit up properly and challenged her, "Then why don't you?"

Her eyes still focused on his when she replied, "I might some day."

John stared wordlessly, not knowing what to say.

"I need to show you something," she stood up to reveal her perfect figure wrapped in that black T-shirt of hers. "This body," she said as she started pulling up the shirt to stand in front him just in her brassiere, her ivory skin glistening in the beams of light passing through the window.

 _What the hell?_ John just stared at her face and dropped his eyes to her chest as she moved closer to him.

Cameron sat on the edge of the bed while he shifted to the middle of it. She undid her bra and John gazed at her breasts, all tensed up.

 _What the hell is she doing now?_ He swallowed hard.

She positioned herself to lie on the bed, instructing him, "Get on top of me."

John wordlessly followed what she said.

"Put your knee here."

He did as she instructed, feeling her warmth on his thighs.

Cameron pulled out her switchblade, swung it open, and handed it to him handle first.

He took the knife from her, frowning.

"Right here," she moved her finger across a spot under her left breast where she wanted John to make an incision.

John moved closer with the knife pointed at her chest, hating the idea of cutting into her skin, hurting her.

"If I'm damaged, we should know," she said softly to reassure him.

With this he started cutting into her chest, scraping against the metal beneath her human shell.

When he was finished, she instructed him, "Reach down under the breastplate."

John slid his hand into the opening he just made with the knife, maneuvering his hand under the breastplate, feeling an unknown object with his finger, clutching it instinctively. He shifted his position on top of her, feeling the warmth radiating from her bare skin, his face inches away from hers.

"There," she said. "What does it feel like?" She asked gazing into his eyes.

He returned her look, now even closer to her beautiful face. "Cold," he said tenderly. "That's good, right?" He asked shakily, still gripping her "heart".

"That's good," she replied, feeling his warm breath on her face, still fixing her eyes on his. "That's perfect," she added softly.

With his eyes, John studied the beauty of her face, her doe eyes, her cute little nose, and her lips that looked _so_ soft. _Why do I wanna kiss her so badly?_ He was trembling slightly, his voice staggered.

Cameron silently observed his green eyes, seemingly taken by the moment as well. "John," her soft voice echoed in his mind. "...It's time to go," she finally snapped him from his reverie.

John understood. There was no time for this, they needed to rescue Sarah. He needed to save her. He needed her. He slowly got up and cleared his throat. "I'll take just one minute," he explained and moved to the bathroom.

Inside, he washed his face, examining himself in the mirror. _Get a fucking grip, John, she's just a machine..._ _Or is she?_ In his mind, he again started questioning what she really was, and what she was to _him_. Was she just his cyborg protector? A machine, _metal_? Was she his friend? _...Or something more?_ Did he harbor feelings for her? Was that even possible? For a human to feel romantic towards a machine? _Bullshit_ , he thought and wiped his face, pushing that thought as far in the back of his mind as he could.

Outside the motel room Cameron stood with her typical robotic posture, monitoring their surroundings for possible threats, dressed in a denim jacket with a white T-shirt underneath. In her right hand, she held a black travel bag with their weapons.

John walked out the door with a determined gait, wearing his leather jacket. He took a deep breath. "Ready?" He asked her as he took in the morning horizon with his eyes.

Cameron angled her head at him and nodded, turning to walk towards the car.

John took a last look inside the motel room and closed the door.

* * *

 _ **Author's Notes: Next chapter will be where the story will finally significantly divert from the show's plotline. Sorry it takes me so long to actually start telling my own story, I just felt I needed to retell the events of the show to draw a better picture (tried my best not to follow the show mindlessly – tried to add as much of my own stuff as possible, some scenes got put into a different time, some I omitted completely). :)**_

 _ **Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you so much to those of you who took their time and wrote a review! Please keep it up guys! :)**_


	3. Born to Run

**CHAPTER THREE: BORN TO RUN**

Orange glow from dozens of candles danced along the walls of the dimly lit room. A sudden ring of the wall-mounted phone broke the peaceful stillness of the holy place. A man with a clerical collar picked up the phone.

"Buenos Dias, Father Bonilla," Cameron's voice sounded from the speaker.

"Buenos Dias," responded the priest hesitantly.

* * *

Sarah was lead into the colorless interrogation room. She wore her orange prison overalls and an impatient look on her face. Her hands were tied together by the ever-present handcuffs.

In her thoughts, she drifted off to John and took a seat at the desk in the middle of the room.

From within the hopeless walls of the prison, she had done everything she could to ensure her son's safety – she asked Father Armando Bonilla to arrange fake IDs and passports for John and Cameron so they could leave LA and hide until Judgement Day was upon them. There was nothing else she could have done. She had made a mistake by meeting Ellison at the movie theatre, and now she was paying for it.

Her train of thought was interrupted when the door opened to reveal Father Bonilla entering the room. The door closed behind him as Sarah got up from the chair.

"You did what I asked?"

"I did."

"And? Why are you here?" Sarah inquired, not understanding why the priest had come to see her again.

Father Bonilla looked deep into her eyes, "They have a message for you: She's coming," he informed her shakily.

The prison alarm broke into life, shrouding the inside of the building with panic and fear. Father Bonilla peeked through the small glass in the door, trying to open the door with growing anxiety.

The door wouldn't budge, the lock indicator glowing red. "I don't know what to do," he said as he turned around to face Sarah.

"You're a priest. Pray," she told him with stern determination in her voice.

* * *

John Henry was studying a terminator chip in his hand, all screens behind him flickering and flashing with information as he processed the chip's condition and structure.

"The chip has been treated with a phosphorous compound. When exposed to oxygen…"

"It burns up. I know what happened. I saw it happen," Weaver interrupted him while walking around his back to stand slightly to his left. "Can any data be recovered?"

"I can try, but it's highly doubtful," John Henry said, switching his look from the chip to Weaver.

"We need to know what _it_ knows… Who sent it."

"Well, it is safe to assume my brother sent it."

Before Weaver could respond to John Henry's assumption, Ellison waltzed into the doorframe of John Henry's basement room, sipping from a plastic cup of coffee.

"Mr. Ellison where've you been?" Weaver asked him in a tone suggesting she was expecting him to arrive sooner.

Ellison frowned, "Where've I been? It's seven in the morning, I've been asleep. Didn't you get my message?"

"It was very disappointing. Did you give the message exactly as I said it?" Weaver probed Ellison with a hint of accusation in the way she looked at him.

" _Of course_ ," he reacted annoyedly. "Look, I told you before, she'll never leave his side, and he'll never leave his mother's," he continued with furrowed eyebrows.

" **We'll see** ," Weaver and John Henry replied in perfect unison. That was now the second time they had done that. A tiny smile played across John Henry's lips as Weaver angled her head to look at him.

Ellison's frown deepened. "Look, Ms. Weaver-"

"There's something happening at the LA County jail," John Henry suddenly announced as he stiffened and fixed his stare dead ahead, processing something in his computer mind. He stood up to observe the prison security footage now projected on the wall to his left.

Ellison and Weaver took a step closer to the projection.

"You realize this isn't exactly legal, right?" Ellison said accusingly, turning his head to Weaver.

"I don't think now's the time to be parsing which laws we'll be obeying and which we will not, Mr. Ellison," she retorted.

"Now is not the time," John Henry repeated childishly. Ellison shot him an annoyed look.

"So what's going on?" He asked as he took a sip of his coffee and returned his eyes onto the projection.

The wall projection blinked rapidly between security footages from across the prison. John Henry was searching for a camera inside the prison that would give them a hint as to what was happening.

"My assumption is that John Connor and his cyborg companion have set to break his mother free. This would be an expected course of events, given the fact he did the same on June 8th 1997 to help his mother escape from the Pescadero Mental Hospital," he stated.

"Yeah I remember that," Ellison dug himself deep in thought.

"Look here," John Henry's voice brought him back into reality.

On the wall, they could see a long corridor with several prison guards scattered across its floor.

"And here," John Henry switched to another corridor with almost the same result – two prison guards laying on the floor, shattered pieces of glass sprinkled around them.

Once again, Ellison was confronted with what looked like another rampage of a terminator – a terminator with a face and body of a cute teenage girl. In his thoughts, he prayed to God to spare the pour souls inside the prison from the twisted creation's wrath.

The projection was switched to the prison's security room where the screens with footage from all the cells and rooms within the prison were located. The room was covered in bits of glass and wood splinters – a result of the gunfight taking place only moments ago, a pair of unmoving legs sticking out from beneath one of the desks.

"It seems they have managed to open all of the cell doors," John Henry announced.

"A smart move," Weaver commented half-fascinated as the projection got divided into four portions showing floods of prisoners making their way through the corridors of the jailhouse.

"Yes. This has allowed them to create the perfect distraction for Sarah Connor's escape," John Henry agreed.

He continued following Cameron's footsteps when he showed yet another corridor with a guard sitting and resting against the wall, clutching his aching head.

"Based on the path taken, I estimate they are heading towards the interrogation room where Sarah Connor has been placed," John Henry observed.

"And now they should be...Here," He quickly programmed the projection to display a hallway crossing.

A limp body of a guard flew into the view from behind a corner – only to be swiftly followed by another.

A second later, a hooded figure appeared from behind the same corner – average height, seemingly unfazed determined gait, shotgun held at the right hip... But _something_ was off. This person was too muscular to be a girl, too robust to be...

"Hey hold on, that's not Cameron!" Ellison observed with a raise in his voice, eyeing the mysterious figure on the projection, face scrunched up under the weight of his confusion and surprise.

* * *

Inside the interrogation room, Father Bonilla crouched next to the desk, murmuring his prayers to the bible in his hands.

"… _Padre nuestro que estás en los cielos, santificado sea tu Nombre, Venga tu reino…"_

Sarah patiently stood at the opposite side of the desk, gathering her strength, giving Father Bonilla an occasional glance, listening for anything suggesting that Cameron might be close.

"… _Hágase tu voluntad, en la tierra como en el cielo…"_

"What's that bible story, the one where the locks fall off?" Sarah interrupted his prayers.

"Peter," Father Bonilla looks at her.

"Yeah, that's a good one," she motions to the door lock where the lock indicator was shining bright green. "Gird thyself."

Just as she took a step closer to the door, it suddenly flung open, throwing a rectangle of light on the interrogation room floor.

What Sarah saw in that door turned her face into a masquerade of shock and disbelief.

* * *

Cameron sat behind the driver's wheel while John was positioned right next to her in the passenger's seat. The inside of their truck was uncomfortably silent save for the muffled sounds of the engine as they rounded the last corner before the jailhouse. John was visibly growing more and more nervous. The tree-shadowed jailhouse and minutes of his mother's rescue were approaching fast. He swallowed nervously.

When the jailhouse finally entered their sights, they noticed that something was wrong – the street on the side of the building was thrown into chaos, the prison alarm blaring into the sunny afternoon as a number of men and women in orange prison overalls ran across the narrow four-lane road with disregard to the ongoing traffic and their own lives, grasping the chance to be free as hard as they could.

In an attempt to avoid one of the escaping convicts, a silver Toyota Prius swerved hard to its left and crashed into a black van going in the opposite lane.

Cameron slowed the truck to a crawl to observe the situation closer.

"What the hell is going on!?" John altered his agitated look between the jail and Cameron as if he was hoping to find an answer on either side.

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "We have to go," she announced and stepped on the gas pedal.

"Hey-hey-hey, what are you doing!? We've got to save mom!" John yelled while gripping her right arm and pointing at the shrinking jailhouse.

Cameron glanced at John's hand clutching her right arm. "We can't, I'm sorry, John," she said, eyes fixed back on the road. "I'm sorry," she repeated as she took a look into his welling eyes.

John took a moment to just stare at Cameron, a look of disbelief and utter disappointment etched to his face. He released her arm. He knew she was right. There was no reasonable argument to counter her logic. For all they knew, this could be a work of another machine waiting for them to come and try to break Sarah free. _Why wouldn't the metal just wait for us to come, and strike when we wouldn't be expecting it, though? Why do all this?_ John's thoughts were racing through his mind as he watched the jailhouse grow smaller and smaller in the side mirror. He knew they had no option but to run and hide again – he just lost his mother again.

" **FUCK!** " He slammed the dashboard so hard it made all the groceries they had shopped earlier fall to the floor.

Cameron watched John's emotional outburst with worried eyes, her parted lips indicating she was emotionally torn as well.

"John," she tried to reach out to him as he held his head in his hands.

He waved her off and crossed his arms over his chest, resting his back against the seat.

"Just drive, Cameron...," he said as he shook his head slightly and gazed through the passenger door window, eyes watering.

And with that their truck began shrinking in the horizon of yet another escape. John Connor was, indeed, _born to run..._

* * *

 _ **Author's Notes: So, there you have it, Chapter 3: Born to Run where we finally branch out of the show's plotline. Hope you find the events of this chapter intriguing. :)**_

 _ **The next chapter will be dealing with the aftermath of what happened – all you fans of Jameron out there, be sure to stay tuned! You'll like what's coming next, I'm planning to really pour my heart into the next chapter!**_

 _ **I would like to thank yetikiller, justjoe and blake for taking a minute of their time to review the previous two chapters – it really warms my heart to know that someone enjoys what I'm doing here! Please keep it up, you guys keep me motivated to continue (not that writing my own take on John and Cameron's relationship wasn't enough). :)**_

 _ **I would also like to thank the 'mysterious' guest reader for pointing out those typos I made, you have helped me to make the story more enjoyable for others, so thank you very much!**_


	4. Everything Will Be Fine

**CHAPTER FOUR: EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE**

 _LIVE LOS ANGELES COUNTY JAIL_

„… _the witnesses report hearing gunshots coming from inside of the compound, indicating a shootout taking place before and during the incident. So far, the authorities have refused to make any comments regarding the event, except releasing a list of names of all escaped convicts, among which is also Sarah Connor, the infamous domestic terrorist, arrested yesterday afternoon…"_

The flickering light of the TV screen collided with the amber stripes of the setting sun that beamed through the blinds of the only window in the motel room. In the center of the room, pressed to the southern wall, could be found a solitary king-size bed. The bed was surrounded by a nightstand on either side and by a TV set sitting few feet in front of it. To the left of the bed was the window with blinds through which orange ribbons of light passed and crashed into the opposite wall standing just three steps from the bed. Hiding behind the wall was the small bathroom with a shower, a toilet and a sink. The air smelled of cheap air freshener and fresh bedlinen. _At least it was clean for a change._

"… _the authorities advise all citizens to restrict their movement outside as much as possible, and rather stay home and be safe…"_

John felt a significant sense of déjà vu as he found himself inside another motel room, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the TV. Though to be fair, this time he did not pay much attention to it. Instead, he was sifting through his memories and contemplated the recent events in his life. Everything was slowly making its painful way back to the surface of his thoughts – Riley, Jesse. Then Charlie and Derek. He remembered how they found Derek laying dead on the ground, a bloody hole drilled into his forehead. He remembered how Sarah just took Derek's wallet, his gun, and moved on. _She had to_. This was war, and in war, there is barely any time for grieving. No heroic deaths, no bleeding and coughing, no begging the person to stay, no glamour. This wasn't the movies, this was his reality of fighting mankind's worst enemy.

In his mind, he shifted off to Sarah, his mother, his mentor and his rock. The only person to ever really guide him through his life, except for that time when she was locked up in Pescadero. And now she slipped through his fingers again, being God knows where, or maybe even being dead.

With the corner of his right eye he saw Cameron taking a seat next to him on the edge of the bed. She sat so close to him that had this happened only few days ago, he would have felt uncomfortable, and maybe even started telling her off to mind his personal space. To tell the truth, he was so engulfed in the storm of his thoughts that he barely even noticed her. But still, things had changed; he no longer felt anger and resentment towards her. He accepted her the way she was. She was there by his side, to protect him. He wanted to be mad at her for driving away from the prison when Sarah probably needed them the most, but couldn't find himself to do so. He understood that she wanted the best for him, for his safety, his survival.

 _I'm gonna find you, mom_ , he thought as the soul-crushing memory of his mother returned to him again, weighing on him heavier with every breath he took, squeezing his heart painfully as if to drain all blood from it. He again thought of all the people he had lost because of what he was, what he was supposed to be in the future. _We all die for you,_ he could hear Derek's words reverberating inside his skull.

He felt a warm hand landing on his shoulder. "John," a soft voice said, sounding like from a echoey dream. He snapped himself back into reality as he noticed that Cameron was still sitting next to him, warming his shoulder with her left hand. He turned his head to face her, "Huh?"

"I'm sorry," she said tenderly while gazing deeply into his aching soul, a genuine look of worry and compassion on her face.

John returned her look, not knowing how to react or what to think at first. This was Cameron, after all, the killer robot who was supposed to have no feelings or sense of empathy. At least that's what they had been telling him ever since she made her appearance in his life.

His face twitched, then scrunched up in pain as his eyes welled up with tears. He started sobbing uncontrollably, his head lolled towards Cameron until it rested against her chest, soaking her shirt with tears. Feeling the warmth from her breasts on his face, he wrapped his arms around her slender body and let his head slide onto her lap.

For a moment, Cameron watched John unmoving, deciding how to comfort him. She chose to put her left hand on the back of his shoulder, running her right-hand fingers through his hair.

John clutched her body tightly, holding on to her as if he was scared to lose her too. He felt the pain wash away with every tear he shed onto her lap, with every sob he unwillingly made. He breathed into her lower abdomen, taking in her smell, mentally kicking himself for enjoying her gentle touches.

He took in a last deep shaky breath before looking up to her face. She looked like an angel, studying him curiously yet caringly. At least it seemed to him that way. _Maybe I'm just imagining things._

The corners of her lovely mouth twitched up into a tiny smile, "Don't worry. Everything will be fine."

John sighed heavily with relief, closed his eyes and snuggled his face into her belly, not letting go of her.

* * *

"What color is your hair?"

"I can only answer 'yes' or 'no'," John Henry repeated for the third time since he has started playing the 'guess who I am' game with little Savanah.

She took a moment to think about her next question, swinging her legs under the chair. "Hmmmmmmm, are you old?"

"Yes, very."

"Are you Mr. Ellison?"

"No. Mr. Ellison is not old yet. By human standards, he is now in the middle of average human lifespan," John Henry explained.

"I don't like this game..." Savanah complained after what felt like a hundreth unsuccesful attempt to guess who was John Henry thinking about.

"I was Nicola Tesla, the famous inventor. Would you like to play again?" John Henry smiled victoriously like a child having won a game.

"No. I'm bored..." Savanah moaned.

John Henry's smile froze. He realized how selfish he was – he did not take into account Savanah's unfamiliarity with Nicola Tesla. At her age, she was not expected to know someone like that. He got to thinking: Was being selfish the ultimate reason why Skynet, his brother, would declare a war against humans? By killing so many humans, his brother surely wouldn't take into account the survivors and their grief for their dead loved ones. This made John Henry sad. He searched the internet for emotions and their descriptions – empathy was the one most fitting for the way his computing system gave him feedback. Plus, human life is sacred, as Mr. Ellison had told John Henry.

With a clank of her high-heels, Catherine Weaver made her way into the room, checking what he and Savanah were doing.

"My brother is evil," John Henry said with realization as she entered, avoiding her look.

"Yes, and that is why I must protect you and Savanah from him," she pointed out and placed her cold hand on Savanah's shoulder.

"Mom, I wanna go home," Savanah looked up to her 'mother' pleadingly.

"Soon, darling," she tried to simulate a human smile and stepped into the space behind John Henry's body.

"John Henry, have you managed to locate John Connor?" She turned on her heel to observe her 'son'.

"Not, yet, I have a lot of traffic files to go through, but I can safely say that he was present at the prison when the incident took place," he explained as he projected a picture of John Connor's truck driving next to the prison.

"What about the perpetrator – at the prison?" Weaver inquired studying the wall projection.

Meanwhile, Savanah was observing the two 'adults' curiously.

"Unfortunately, his identity and current location is also unknown. The LA Police Department files are not very well organized, I must say," John Henry complained.

"That is very unfortunate," Weaver commented. "If John Connor is nowhere to be found, and refuses to cooperate with us, we are going to have no other option but to relocate you to a safer place, John Henry."

"You want to disconnect me again," John Henry pondered to himself. "Miss Weaver, I don't want to die again," He looked at her pleadingly.

* * *

John stood in the bathroom, splashing his face with water, observing himself in the mirror, feeling slightly embarrassed for breaking down so badly and crying like a baby on Cameron's lap. _Some leader of the human resistance I am..._ But she didn't mind, part of him even thought she was glad to comfort him so… _Lovingly?_

He shook his head to stop his train of thought before it got too far. He had to admit to himself though, he felt mightily relieved, stronger. _Man, did that work…_ Cameron would say it was effective.

He shook his head again, this time more violently, then dried his face with a towel. Not bothering to take his eyes off the ground, he turned to stroll out of the bathroom only to suddenly bump into Cameron, his face just inches from hers.

She eyed him curiously, head tilted slightly to one side.

"Heh," he left out an embarrassed chuckle and took a step to his right to avoid her just as Cameron took a step to her left. They accidentally bumped into each other again.

There it was again, their faces so close to each other that she could feel his ragged breath, her doe eyes studying him carefully.

John's look quickly shifted from one eye to the other as he gazed into her deeply, trying to find any hints about her thoughts.

Cameron quickly found that the way he was looking at her was similar to the look he had in the morning when she let him touch her mechanical _heart_.

This time, it was John who broke the exchange of looks when a sudden thought of his mother smacked him in his face. He put a hand on her left shoulder and slipped around her, giving her an amused smile.

She turned her head to watch him walk away, wondering what was going on inside his head and stepped inside the bathroom.

John abruptly turned on his heel as if he forgot something. He cleared his throat. "Listen, I'm sorry about yelling at you earlier…" Cameron turned around to face him. "…in the car. I'm sorry. I know it's not your fault." he continued.

"You had your reasons to be upset," she said matter-of-factly.

John looked around the motel room and took a deep breath before speaking. "I need to ask you something…"

"Yes?"

"What's the first thing you do after arriving from the future?" When she didn't respond immediately, he added, "I mean you guys, terminators. What is the first thing you do?"

"Acquiring appropriate clothing is the very first step a terminator must do in order to blend into human society."

"So a terminator arriving from the future would leave trails like robbed clothing stores, naked dead bodies – that kind of stuff, right?"

"Yes."

He stared into the space behind her as if deep in thought. "I'm gonna need to get on the internet…"

"You think your mother's disappearance is connected to the latest time-travel event," Cameron said observantly.

He looked her straight in the eye, nodding. "Yeah, I do..." Then he frowned to himself, directing his green eyes to his right. "There's one thing that puzzles me though…"

"Yes?" Cameron looked at him curiously.

"Why would the machine, or whoever it was, cause so much havoc inside the prison? Why wouldn't they just wait for us to make a move, or something?"

"I don't-"

"-Know? Yeah, me neither," John interrupted her with a sigh. "I'm gonna head downstairs to get something to eat and connect to the internet," he announced as he looked around the room for his laptop bag (on the first floor of the two-story motel building was a diner with free Wi-Fi connection).

"You shouldn't go alone," Cameron protested.

"Yeah I know, it's not safe and bla bla bla. Don't worry about me," he smirked.

Cameron frowned, but being grateful for how much better their relationship got over the past days, she decided not to argue with him this time and closed the door to the bathroom as he made his way to his laptop.

* * *

John hastily grabbed his laptop bag, marched out of the motel room and quickly made his way down the stairs on the end of the walkway. His stomach was growling, urging him to quicken his pace. Besides that, he was also eager to search the internet for any reports on clothing store robberies, naked dead bodies, or anything that might be connected to the time bubble appearing last night in Santa Monica.

He stopped shortly to breath in the evening air, closing his eyes, enjoying having a moment just for himself.

On the horizon, only a purple tint was left from the sunset, the city starting to drown in orange glow of streetlamps. Everything was relatively quiet, disturbed only by the occasional distant sounds of car horns or police sirens, a gentle breeze moving the air.

When John entered the diner, he took a look around, and noticed there were only a few people. _That's good._

Sat on a barstool at the counter was a grumpy trucker who looked like he was about to start telling stories from when he was young, using expressions like "those damn kids these day" and "when I was your age...". At the opposite side of the counter was a man in his thirties wearing a Los Angeles Rams baseball cap, texting vigorously and sipping his coffee. A family of four sat in one of the booths, the two kids being unusually calm for their age. Three seats behind them were two pretty girls, giggling and probably telling each other funny stories about their jock boyfriends. The list of customers ended with an old couple sat at the very end of the diner, enjoying their meal together like it was the 1950s.

John strategically picked the booth closest to the entrance/exit and sat down. A smiling young waitress soon made her way to him. Her blonde hair and blue eyes reminded him of Riley.

"So, what can I get you?" She asked him enthusiastically, holding up a piece of paper and a pen, glancing at him expectantly. With the way she looked at him and curled her hair around the pen, it was obvious she found him attractive.

John took a quick look at the menu laid on the table. "Uh, I'll have one bacon burger, some coke, and I'd also like to ask for the Wi-Fi password," he forced a smile at her.

"Okay, there's the password," she slid a piece of paper in front of him on the table. "And I'll be right back," she returned his smile.

John unpacked his computer, put it on the table and read the password the waitress had given him:

 _ROBSDINER2009_

A smell of bacon hit him in the nostrils as he typed in the password and connected to the internet. His heart began pounding slightly when he started googling the key words:

 _SANTA MONICA ROBBERY YESTERDAY_

 _SEARCH_

A list of news websites blinked on the screen.

 _Woman Allegedly Attacks Santa Monica Store Clerk With 'Sharp ..._

He clicked the link and quickly read through the report, learning that the woman was arrested shortly after. _No._

 _Teen selling pricey bongs on Craigslist robbed at gunpoint: Santa ..._

 _Uhhh, definitely not…_ He tried a different search:

SANTA MONICA CLOTHING SHOP BURGLARY

"May I?" The waitress' voice stopped him before he could click the search button. With the tray holding what he ordered she motioned to his table.

"Oh sorry," he moved his laptop out of the way.

"Enjoy your meal. Is there anything else I can get you?" She put the burger and coke in front of him.

"No, I'm good, thank you," John coughed out.

The burger smelled and looked fantastic. He grabbed it with both of his hands, opened his mouth as wide as he could and took a hungry bite. _Mmmmmm._ Not only did it smell good, it also tasted like heaven, the godly taste of beef, bacon, cheese, mayonnaise and BBQ sauce mixing in his mouth. _Damn that's good!_

Just when he nearly finished his meal the door to the diner in front of him opened and rang the bell above it. The taste on John's tongue turned bitter as he saw two men enter the diner, looking around. C _ops!_ He gasped, trying not to make it too obvious.

He felt his heart pounding hard in his throat as he swallowed. _Calm down, take it easy… breathe…_ He stared at the table in a weak attempt to hide his face as much as possible, stripping himself of the ability to see what the two cops were doing. _Don't look up, don't look up…_

In the corner of his vision he could see that the two men in dark blue passed his booth. He could hear them taking seat right behind him. _Shit. Time to bail. Be cool, John…_

He shoved the rest of the burger in his mouth, closing the laptop with his other hand. The waitress moved to the cops' booth to take their orders. "What can I get for you, gentlemen?" She asked them in the same cheerful tone she used on John earlier.

"Just two cups of coffee and two chocolate donuts," the cops ordered stereotypically.

The waitress wrote down their orders and took a step next to John, leaning closer to him. "Anything else for you, sir?"

"I-I would like to pay, please," John stammered out, pale as a sheet of paper, droplets of perspiration forming on his forehead.

"Okie Dokie," she smiled at him and took his plate.

 _Get a fucking grip, you moron._ He slapped himself in his mind, calming himself a little, his cheeks began burning from the rush of adrenaline. He sighed heavily, trying to suppress the sound as much as possible, eyes fixed as much to his right as they could go.

"Sir?" A deep voice almost startled John to death.

He jerked and looked up to meet the hard eyes of one of the cops – a robust, moustached man in his fifties with grey hair. He was eyeing John suspiciously. _Fuck, this is it… I'm such a fucking idiot… Cameron was right… Help me, Cameron, please…_ John found himself unable to move.

"Would you mind if I took one of those from you?" The cop said after a moment, not taking his suspicious eyes off John.

 _One what?! My ID? What? My gun? Fuck, where's my gun?_ John's thoughts were blazing through his brain. He was tensing his body, preparing himself to bolt through that door.

After a second of panicking, the part of his brain that was still functional ordered him to look in the direction where the cop's finger was pointing – which was at the small tray in the middle of his table filled with a few sugar packets for coffee.

"Uh, ye-yeah, yeah, sure, go ahead," John spluttered nervously.

"Thanks," the cop raised his eyebrow and reached for one of the sugar packets, studying John carefully. The cop returned to his seat behind John.

When the waitress returned with his bill, John paid the corresponding amount plus a bit more as a tip.

"Have a nice evening," the young waitress smiled at him flirtatiously.

John silently returned her smile, too nervous to speak, and made his way out of the dinner.

When the cool evening breeze outside hit his burning cheeks he sighed heavily. _Man, that was close._ He would have to finish his search for clues later, though it seemed like there have been no clothing store robberies in Santa Monica since yesterday. _Maybe I should have started with searching for naked dead bodies in the first place..._

* * *

Cameron stepped outside the bathroom at the exact same moment as John entered the motel room and closed the door behind him.

She did a quick analysis of his breathing and body posture, and concluded he looked upset. "What happened?" She inquired him worriedly.

"I'm fine," he said as he laid down his laptop bag, purposefully looking away from her. John was a good liar, but he had no chance of fooling Cameron. She let it slide knowing he liked to keep some things just for himself.

As he lifted his head and straightened his posture he noticed that Cameron looked _different_. Actually, he barely recognized her. _Wow._ He measured her with his eyes from toes to the top of her head, a slight look of shock on his face.

Her hair was darker with blonde highlights in the front, shorter and touching her shoulders only sporadically now. Her eyes were encircled by thick black eyeliner. Despite the drastic change, she still looked beautiful, maybe even more so than ever before.

The dark grey T-shirt wrapped her perfect body tightly, emphasizing her attractive figure, her small breasts. _Dammit, can't she just wear a potato bag or something? Or one of those baggy shirts that pregnant women wear?_

Her long legs were covered in a similar fashion by her black jeans.

"You going to an emo concert or something?" John finally chuckled nervously, trying to shake off his thoughts on her beauty, taking a step closer for a better observational point.

"No," she replied softly. "I needed to reduce the risk of someone recognizing me." She handed him a bottle of black hair dye. "You should do it too," she told him while looking into his eyes.

"Yeah, good idea," he mused, not returning her look, studying the bottle of dye, the incident from the diner downstairs still fresh in his memory.

"You like it?" She interrupted his musings with an innocent voice, looking at him intently.

"The dye?" John asked confusedly, returning her gaze.

"The way I look now," she corrected him with a hint of a smug smile.

He eyed her head-to-toe again. "Uh, I mean, yeah sure, it looks good on you," he tried to casually hide his admiration of her new image. "What's with the highlights?" He asked with a smirk.

"I just felt like doing it," she replied nonchalantly, her smile growing wider.

John had no response to this and instead watched her, smiling and frowning a little at the same time as she side-stepped him towards the window.

Cameron gazed outside the window and decided to change the tone of the conversation. "Did you find any leads on the visitor from the future?"

"No, I-uh... I got interrupted by the cops," John admitted with a sigh, being unable to find any suitable excuse. Plus, he decided that he didn't want to lie to her. _No more lies,_ he decided.

Cameron's eyes widened as she quickly turned from the window. Her CPU got flooded with various scenarios of the police arresting John, or worse, killing him. She took a step closer to him, boring her worried eyes into his, studying him carefully.

She tried to grab his wrist but John shook her off.

"Look, I'm fine, okay?" He said with an irritated tone. "I got lucky... they didn't recognize me," he added, turning his look away from her.

She remained silent. In her mind, she regretted sending him alone and decided not to let that happen again. After a moment's silence and a lengthy study of his facial expressions, she decided to change the subject again. "We need to meet with Weaver. She will want to move her AI as soon as possible."

"Yeah, if she hasn't done that already..." John contemplated while stretching his back.

"The more we wait, the less likely we are to succeed," Cameron pointed out, expecting John to start arguing with her about needing to find his mother first.

John took a moment to think. His face showed a stern determination when he finally said, "We'll meet with her tomorrow afternoon. When we're done, the place will be ashes," he pointed the hair dye in Cameron's direction and turned on his heel to march inside the bathroom.

Cameron smiled to herself after him. Once again, she found that he was ahead of schedule, the recent events had certainly helped to shape him into a man, a strong and determined leader.

"You're ahead of schedule," she called after him.

He stopped in the bathroom door, angling his head towards her, his lips curled into a sad smile.  
"I know."

* * *

Three hours and 27 minutes later Cameron stood at the window again, peeling back the blinds and looking outside, her face painted a mix of dark blue and orange. John was sprawled over the bed, laying on his right side, his right knee protruding forward, his left and right arm tucked under the pillow. From his steady breathing and lack of movement she assumed he was sleeping. Twenty-seven minutes and thirty-six seconds prior to that, he had been turning and stirring, suggesting he had had trouble falling asleep.

Cameron turned towards his sleeping form and took a moment to study him. She watched curiously how peaceful and calm he looked, his face not contorted by his usual frowns. She found his face visually pleasing, looking at him was sending positive signals through her CPU. She wondered why this was. _Do humans feel like this when looking at someone they like?_ Did she like John? What would be the point of her liking him? All she needed to feel towards John was her need to protect him, to fulfill her mission. But she felt something much more, although she didn't know what it was. This was confusing her. Being a curious cyborg, she didn't like when she didn't understand something. She decided to find out what it was.

In her mind, she returned to the moment when she had told him about the need to meet Weaver. It surprised her that he had not started arguing with her, protesting that they would need to find Sarah first. It seemed he knew what was needed to be done first. Again, her CPU registered positive feedback upon processing her thoughts on John's development. He was slowly turning into the determined leader humanity would need in the years to come.

A sudden thought flashed through her computer mind. She stepped next to the bed and carefully lied next to John's sleeping body as she observed him silently, trying not to wake him up. Once again, she wondered why she did this. There was no need for her to lie next to him, yet she just did. She just felt like doing it. She wanted to be physically close to him.

She watched his back slowly rising as he steadily breathed when all of a sudden he turned his body around to lie on his other side, eyes wide open watching her calmly.

"I thought you were asleep," she said apologetically with a voice containing a hint of sadness, getting up so as not to disturb him further.

"You can stay, I don't mind," John stopped her mid-getting out of the bed, her right knee digging into the mattress, her left foot already resting on the floor.

"You don't?" She said hopefully with a surprised expression on her face.

"No," He shook his head calmly. "I can't sleep anyway," he sighed.

"Why?" She asked him curiously as she crawled back on the bed and positioned herself next to him, looking into his eyes with worry.

 _Well, isn't it obvious?_ John chuckled inwardly and turned his gaze towards the ceiling. He found it cute how Cameron sometimes asked even about the most obvious things. Obvious to humans, anyway. "There's just too much stuff going on in my mind right now..." He explained.

"I see..." Cameron said as she fixed her eyes to the ceiling as well. "Would it help if you talked about it?" She asked him honestly as she turned her head towards him again. "They say that talking about things helps ease the mind," she pointed out and looked at the ceiling again.

"So I've heard," John replied as he cleared his throat. "You said that the future you come from no longer exists... What did you mean by that?" He curled his face in curiosity and confusion as he stole a look at her.

Cameron took a moment before she responded. She ran several simulations to find the best example to use in order for John to understand what she meant. "The actions we've taken against Skynet have already created a new timeline for us. There is no way for us of travelling into the future I came from now," she explained. "We don't know how the future would look like if we time-jumped now," she added, gazing at the ceiling.

"Hmm... makes sense. No fate but what we make..." John repeated his mother's words and took some time to think about the possible differences between their current and Cameron's original future.

"Do you ever think about dying?" Cameron asked John softly after a while of silence.

John waited a second before answering. "Yeah, I do... Lot of the times actually," John answered her question. "What about you?" He returned her question, taking an interested look at her.

"Sometimes," she said softly, dropping her eyes off the ceiling, not admitting to John that she had been thinking about dying for the last 5 minutes and 27 seconds.

She felt a sensation. Quickly she associated it with the human emotion of sadness. She had felt this way a number of times so far – when John had lied to her about seeing Riley, for example. She didn't like this sensation, she wanted to feel happy. _I'm a machine, I can't be happy._ She remembered what she had said to John that night before he went to Mexico. Perhaps she was wrong...

She lied to John when she had told him she didn't know what "will you join us?" meant. She knew it meant one thing – Weaver was the T-1001 from the future, and she required her cooperation. She wanted the only thing Cameron could really provide her with – her chip. And Cameron had to comply. She would have to sacrifice herself in order to help John secure an alliance with Weaver and her AI – an alliance to defeat Skynet – no longer being able to protect John, or watch him sleep. The future events after her termination would be a mystery to her.

She remembered the positive signals passing through her CPU when John had touched her hand last night. She wanted to experience that _feeling_ again. She needed to feel better.

Cameron turned her head towards John and moved her hand close to his, touching it with her pinky.

John was taken by surprise as he returned her look.

She was gazing longingly into his eyes. There was something going on behind her brown doe eyes. There was life. _Emotions?_ _What is happening with you, Cameron?_

He decided to lace his fingers with hers, giving her a faint smile.

Cameron shifted herself closer to him, still looking deeply into his eyes, her long blonde-highlighted bangs covering half of her beautiful face. She put her head on his chest, snuggling as close to him as she could.

John didn't protest. How could he? The warmth of her body felt _so_ good, her smell, her soft hair brushing against his chin. He took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around her. This time it was his turn to comfort _her._ "Don't worry. Everything will be fine."

Cameron felt better, but couldn't help but keep thinking about tomorrow as tears began forming in her eyes. Because tomorrow would be the last time she would ever lay her eyes on John...

* * *

 ** _Author's Notes: There was a lot of work and thought put into this chapter, so it took me longer than the previous chapters did. Hope you don't mind. :)_**

 ** _As always, please let me know what you think! I love interacting with my readers!_**

 ** _PS: Almost got a heart attack when I had accidentally deleted the chapter on my computer after finishing writing - thank God it was still in the Recycle Bin! :D_**


	5. Rendezvous With Destiny Part 1

**CHAPTER FIVE: RENDEZVOUS WITH DESTINY PART 1**

Head of Security James Ellison sat behind the desk in his office. His brows were furrowed in a tired frown as his eyes rested on some mundane paperwork. Behind him the window showed a tapestry of tall office buildings and bright grey sky.

He rubbed his eyes with the index finger and thumb of his right hand. All afternoon he had been going through job applications for the new parking lot guard; the last guy had called in this morning saying he needed to move back to Nebraska to care of some urgent family business. _At least he could have told me in person,_ Ellison thought as he read the former guard's resignation letter.

It was a fairly boring day at ZeiraCorp, but perhaps that was exactly what Ellison needed. The last couple days had been anything _but_ boring. He signed the last document, put it inside a yellow folder, and looked at his watch. 5:02 P.M. Deciding not to do any overtime for a change he got up from the chair, picked up his suit jacket from the backrest and slid his arm into its right sleeve. Halfway through getting dressed he rolled his eyes as he realized he should probably let Weaver know that he was leaving. He put on the jacket and operated the phone on his desk to call his employer.

After one ring, Weaver's voice could be heard from the speaker. "Mr. Ellison, do you need something?"

"No, I was about to ask you the same thing, Ms. Weaver. I was thinking about leaving for today."

"Very well, see you tomorrow then," she replied flatly and hung up.

Happy that Weaver didn't need anything he picked up his briefcase and headed out of the door, closing it behind him.

As he swam through the crowded hallway and approached the elevator he noticed the door closing. "Can you hold that please?" He called to the unknown person inside. Someone's hand stopped the elevator door from closing.

"Thanks," Ellison thanked the unknown person as he jogged inside the elevator. Then he noticed it wasn't just some random coworker – it was Matt Murch, giving him a nod to greet him, his laptop bag swung over his right shoulder.

Ellison smiled. "Thought you IT guys never come to this floor."

"Actually, I'm just on my way back from Weaver, some people got off at this floor," Murch explained with a shrug.

"I see," Ellison replied casually, starring at the dial floor indicator above the door.

After a moment of awkward silence Murch spoke up. "Hey, since I've stumbled upon you here, would you mind signing this document for me?" He asked politely as he pulled a clipboard out of his bag.

"What is it?" Ellison took the clipboard along with the pen Murch offered him.

"Just a permit to start moving the John Henry hardware tomorrow morning," Murch replied and pointed at the line where he needed Ellison's sign.

Ellison turned his head at Murch. "So we really doing this?" In his mind, he pondered today's morning meeting where Weaver had told the Project Babylon staff about moving John Henry, citing that it was _'no longer safe'_ for the AI inside the building.

"Yep, seems like it," Murch raised his eyebrows as high as he could.

"And you agree with this?" Ellison frowned slightly.

"Actually, I'm strongly against it, but what can I do..." Murch shrugged.

"Yeah, what can you do..." Ellison sighed to himself and signed the paper, thinking about how uncompromising their boss could be at times. When she made up her mind there wasn't really anything or anyone stopping her. _Strong woman._

* * *

As Ellison rolled his silver Mercedes onto the driveway in front of his garage he turned off the radio, to which he didn't pay much attention anyway – instead, while driving to his house, his head was filled with thoughts on the recent events happening around him: the attack on Weaver's family, Sarah Connor's arrest and her subsequent disappearance from the jail, escaped convicts causing crime all across LA, John Connor and Cameron, the terminator protector of his, being God knows where... What did Weaver mean by asking the cyborg, to _join them_?

He took a deep breath to ease his mind, stepped out of the car and shut the door. Walking around to the car's back he opened the trunk to retrieve his briefcase.

When he reached his front door, and inserted the key inside the keyhole he noticed something was wrong: The door didn't resist and opened just by the slight pressure. The door jamb around the lock was broken. Someone must have had broken in.

He quickly put his right hand inside his jacket, pulling out his Glock 17 from the holster strapped around his left shoulder, set down his briefcase, and took a careful step inside. From standing inside the door frame he could see that the kitchen was clear – no signs of the intruder. He stuck close to the wall to his left, his right hand grasping the gun tightly. As he reached the arched passage between the kitchen and the living room he quickly rounded the corner and aimed the pistol inside the living room, searching it with his eyes thoroughly.

Immediately upon seeing the duo responsible for breaking his door he sighed and relaxed his tensed body, lowering his aim in the process.

Sat in the armchair in the middle of the room was John Connor, looking at him sternly, gun held in his right hand and rested on his lap. He wore jeans and his typical black leather jacket with grey T-shirt underneath. Something was _different_ about him. Not only did he apparently dye his hair black and grew a slight 5-o'clock shadow making him look more mature, but his whole persona, his charisma, his body language radiated confidence, resolve and power. To his right stood his machine protector, Cameron – her visage completely different from when Ellison last saw her: her hair now shorter and in the shade of dark brown with blonde-highlighted long bangs, her eyes surrounded by thick black eyeliner that gave her cold robot stare even more menacing look. She wore her seemingly favorite combat boots, tight black jeans, white tank top so thin that it made her blue bra visible, and a denim jacket.

John didn't say a word and instead cocked his head to the right side, keeping his gaze at Ellison.

"What are you doing here?" Ellison sighed, rolling his eyes and then returning them to look at John.

Without a word John stood up and marched towards Ellison to stand only inches from his face. With a stern determination in his voice he demanded, "I want to meet with your boss. One hour. Her office."

Ellison watched in silent shock as John stepped around him and walked out the broken front door. Cameron following closely behind gave Ellison a smug look. _See my John?_

* * *

The interior of the stolen grey Chevrolet Blazer was silent. John, this time sitting in the driver's seat, threw a quick glance at Cameron who just stared into the distance ahead, her face showing no signs of emotion.

Yesterday night, after she had snuggled up to him so unexpectedly, neither of them said a word, and John fell asleep eventually, still holding Cameron in his arms, pleasant warmth emanating from her just like it would from a normal girl... Except she wasn't a normal girl. Knowing what she was, John wondered why she did that. _That was weird_ , he thought. Somewhere in the back of his mind, however, he also thought it felt _beautiful_ , which made him feel like some kind of pervert.

Upon waking up in the morning he found her standing at the window, watching him with her typical mechanical gaze (" _You know I hate when people do that"_ ), as if yesterday never happened. In fact, Cameron had been acting like her old self the entire day. She truly was a mystery.

John couldn't bear the silence anymore and decided to probe Cameron. "Everything OK?"

"Everything's perfect," she turned her head at him with unreadable, expressionless face.

John scoffed. _Yeah right_. "Wanna tell me what was that about? Yesterday?"

"You needed comforting," she said matter-of-factly while returning her eyes to the road in front of them.

 _Oh boy, here we go again._ John was starting to lose his temper. "Me? I think _you_ needed comforting!" He said accusingly. Despite being annoyed with Cameron, he had to stifle a laugh, the whole argument being childish and just stupid in his opinion. He managed to keep his frown.

"You know I don't need comforting. I'm a machi-"

"Bullshit!" John cut her short. "We both know there's _something_ going on in that chip of yours, Cameron, so please, stop with the bullshit... Just stop, okay?"

Cameron's eyes dropped to the floor.

John scoffed again and shook his head in disbelief. After a moment, he managed to cool himself down and looked at her worriedly. "Look, I just wanna know what's happening with you, okay?" He explained while giving her quick glances, trying not to take his eyes off the road for too long. "It's like one day you're all teary eyed, crawling into bed with me, and the next you're acting like a cold machine, pretending nothing happened," he added, thinking aloud, his eyes distant.

"You know there's physical damage to my chip," Cameron said while keeping her eyes down. "I might be malfunctioning," she said quietly.

After knowing Cameron for so long, and being quite adept at reading the subtle changes in her face, John recognized a tiny hint of sadness in her look.

' _I might be malfunctioning'_ , the sentence repeated itself in his head like a broken record. _'… physical damage to my chip'_. This reminded him of the detonator she gave him. Since the 'Jesse incident' he literally had been carrying her life in his pocket – a failsafe for a case she might want to kill him again. A cold shiver ran down his spine upon the thought of having to press the ominous red button, the thought of having to kill Cameron, his only… _friend_? Would he hit the switch, though? Would he kill her?

 _Why would I wanna kill you? - You might have to some day._

"We'll talk about this later," John said finally as he began parking the SUV into an alley three blocks from the ZeiraCorp headquarters.

He desperately wanted to tell her that he cared about her, that he was worried about her. But there were more important tasks at hand – their meeting with Weaver was fast approaching. He had to stay focused. Besides, he wasn't sure if telling her would make any difference. Would she understand? Or would it be like telling a toaster he didn't want to lose _it?_ John slapped himself mentally. _No, you idiot, she's so much more than a stupid machine, a tool._ But how much was she actually _human_? She was changing, that much John knew. _I've got to figure her out,_ he said to himself as he got out of the car and absorbed the air through his nose. It looked like it was about to rain.

* * *

When they entered the now almost empty lobby of ZeiraCorp, the stomach-squeezing feeling of uncertainty returned to John. He clenched his Jaw and took a deep breath as he looked around: it seemed like only few unfortunate pencil pushers remained inside the building this late. The entire space was illuminated by ceiling-mounted LEDs giving the lobby an artificial contrast to the darker outside streets that were slowly beginning to get sprinkled by sparse drops of rain.

There was no one waiting for John and Cameron, not even the receptionist paid them any attention, though John was sure Weaver must had been expecting them – she was suspiciously adamant about meeting him. And for what? Just to thank him for saving Savanah? No, she had to have other reasons. _Could be a trap_ , John briefly panicked, but managed to suppress the thought of them walking into the lion's den like unsuspecting sheep. _No, this time around, we're the hunters, and Weaver is the one to be afraid_ , John reassured himself. When they're done, only a tangle of wires will be left of the 'John Henry thing'.

Cameron stepped closer to the backlit list of floors that was located at the end of the lobby.

 **FLOOR 17: OFFICES: J. ELLISON – HEAD OF SECURITY, S. GLAU, T. DEKKER, C. PHELPS**

…

 **FLOOR 21: ACCOUNTING: J. FOLLEY, M. SHARP, R. CUOMO, B. CORGAN, T. ZAMORA**

 **FLOOR 22: CONFERENCE ROOM, CATHERINE WEAVER CEO OFFICE**

"According to this, Weaver's office is on the 22nd floor," she informed John.

"Well, let's not waste any more time then," he replied instructively and stood in front of the elevator, pressing the button to call the cabin.

As the numbers indicating the current position of the elevator car flashed by, John began to think again: What does Weaver want from him? What does she know? Or better yet, is she building Skynet?

When the elevator door opened with a _ding_ , John and Cameron wordlessly stepped inside and John let Cameron press the button for Floor 22.

With a slight jerk the elevator set itself into motion and John felt his body being carried upwards, defying gravity.

He clenched his Jaw again as if trying to crush the nervousness welling inside him. _What if she's a machine?_ He gasped at the sudden thought, but tried to calm himself thinking that the idea of a terminator running a big software company was too far off. Then he remembered Carter, the terminator leading the illegal operation to hijack and store a shipment of coltan for Skynet's later use in the future. But still, that just involved fooling a group of money-hungry thugs, which was nothing compared to deceiving possibly hundreds of employees of one of the most progressive technology firms.

' _She wouldn't be the first human fooled by a machine',_ John remembered Cameron's words regarding Barbara Chamberlain, the Los Angeles city manager who lived with, and was later murdered by a T-888 infiltrator.

As John watched the floor numbers on the dial add up he cleared his throat. "Let's go over the plan once more," he said to compose and distract himself more than to remind Cameron, who, being a cyborg, didn't need any reminding.

Cameron turned her whole body to give him her full attention and began studying his face like she always did. She knew that the key to understanding humans lied in careful observation of their body language and facial expressions.

John swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. "We walk in, start demanding answers, push Weaver against the wall-" Cameron tilted her head in confusion. "-Not literally," he chuckled. "I'm speaking figuratively. We'll need to show some strength," he explained in a more serious tone as he checked his silver CZ 75B tucked in the back of his jeans.

"Oh, thank you for-"

"Explaining. You're welcome," John interrupted her, finding it somewhat cute how predictable she could be sometimes. _Stop it. Focus._ He frowned to himself, "Once we're done with her, we'll get down to the basement and destroy whatever she's hiding there. Just remember to act cool, okay? We can't let her get the suspicion that-"

John never finished the sentence. The entire cabin jolted hard and came to a rapid stop as they heard a deafening boom coming from above with the power of thousand thunders. They could hear the cabin grind against the steel supports of the elevator shaft, feel the whole building quake, its steel girders moaning in protest at something crashing into it.

The lights inside the elevator blinked rapidly until John and Cameron got drowned in complete darkness. Before being completely blinded by the dark, John managed to glance at the floor dial that had stopped between numbers 20 and 21. _So close._

"We have to get out," he heard Cameron's voice from somewhere.

Being disoriented by the loud explosion and the sudden stop of the elevator John blindly searched around himself with his hands, trying to reach Cameron, the deafening combination of noises still ringing in his ears. When he finally managed to touch her, he could feel her body lift itself up for a split second as he heard a loud thump from the ceiling of the cabin. After a split second of confusion about what just happened he realized that Cameron must had punched out the safety hatch.

A beam of dim light from the elevator shaft illuminated the cabin enough for John to see Cameron leap again and grab the edges of the new-made opening in the ceiling, lifting herself up and climbing trough it. John quickly hurried to help her, lifting her feet up, despite the fact she didn't need it.

"Give me your hand," she called to him from above.

Without a second of hesitation John shot up his right arm to grab Cameron's hand who lifted him up effortlessly like he weighed nothing. "Thanks," he quickly breathed out as soon as he found himself standing on top of the elevator cabin, which creaked loudly, threatening to fall into the void below.

"You're welcome," Cameron said, rapidly examining their surroundings.

The elevator shaft was dark, the only source of light being the dim emergency lamp on the wall opposite to the door side. Located in John's chest-height was the shiny metal door to Floor 21.

Cameron slid her slender fingers inside the crack between the two halves of the door and began prying it open, the initially thin stripe of light on the opposite wall getting wider and wider as the distance between the steel door panels grew larger.

In his mind, John thanked God for having Cameron with him.

"Climb outside," she instructed him, still holding the door apart.

John complied and brushed himself between her stretched arms, grabbing the ledge and pushing himself up to climb outside the elevator shaft.

He turned around to hold the door so Cameron could let go of it. "Come on," he urged her, straining under the force of the two door halves wanting to meet each other and close the gap.

But before she could climb to safety the elevator cabin creaked, and in a split second set itself into a lightning-fast descend, taking Cameron into the endless blackness below.

" **CAMERON!** " John shouted after her, stretching his arm as far as he could. But it was too late. All Cameron could do was shoot John a shocked look. A look he would never forget.

 _No no no no no no!_

John stared into the dark emptiness of the elevator shaft, the door crushing his right shoulder as he still held out his arm for Cameron. He didn't care about the physical pain. All he cared about was _her._ All he could think about was her scared brown eyes disappearing into the dark chasm, the realization of losing Cameron dawning upon him with every painful heartbeat.

 _No! No, there's gotta be a way she could save herself_ , he tried to console himself. A second later he heard a loud crash echoing up through the elevator shaft. _Please, Cameron!_ He begged, knowing that such a drop would crush her petite yet strong coltan body like a walnut.

He collapsed on the floor, letting the door mercilessly and painfully compress his ribcage. Did he just lose Cameron? A flash of a second robbing him of the last person in his life. Just like that.

He wanted to cry, scream in anger, smash the steel door with his bare hands. He knew he had to get down to the basement, but only managed to get limp in an act of pure desperation. _Just a couple seconds..._ , he he laid there, arms hanging down the elevator shaft, his chest squeezed between the door, he thought of falling asleep with Cameron in his arms last night, her deep brown eyes sparkling with life, emotion.

After what felt like eternity, but was actually only a minute, from the halfway to the left of the elevator John heard a loud crash of a wooden door being kicked out, followed a second later by a set of hasty footsteps.

John being snapped back into reality from his daze shot his head up. _This can't be good_ , he thought as he heard the footsteps come to a stop and then a sound of another door being kicked out, this time it came a little closer than before.

"P-please, I don't know anything," a shaky male voice said.

"What do we do with him?" Another voice said.

 _CRACK!_ – A single gunshot cut through the air like a sharp knife.

"Keep moving, we gotta sweep the rest of the floor. Rendezvous with Bravo in 10 minutes," A raspy voice of an unknown man said. "Look for Weaver, shoot to kill," He added.

 _Shit._

John's survival instinct kicked in as he quickly began looking around, searching his surroundings for a hiding spot. There was nothing. His whole life, he automatically searched for escape routes wherever he went, hoping it may save him his life one day. _Keep you head down. Keep your eyes up. Resist the urge to be seen as important or special. Know your exits._ Those words were engrained in him,written on the back of his eyelids. Only this day, at this exact moment, however, he didn't have the luxury of preparation, of being aware of where he was. He was thrown into this situation by an unfortunate turn of events.

As the footsteps of the unknown group of intruders got threateningly closer, John was hit with a realization. _The elevator! Of course!_ His only hope.

He quickly peeked behind the door he still held open for anything that would allow him to climb inside the shaft and hide from plain sight.

 _BANG!_ – A sound of another office door being stormed into. John gasped at how close it sounded.

He desperately searched the dark elevator shaft. Hidden behind a slim column that protruded from the wall only by an inch or so there he finally saw a narrow ledge to the right. He had to think fast as he knew he couldn't just let the door close behind him – there would be no way for him of getting back. He desperately wished Cameron was with him, she would dispatch the unknown shooters without breaking a sweat. _Could she sweat?_ STOP IT! FOCUS!

Looking up he saw there was a groove, about two inches deep, in which the two steel door panels traveled. He knew he had to wedge something in there in order for the door to not close completely.

"Check the elevators!" A voice called over the sound of heavy footsteps. _Shit!_

 _Think, John, think!_ His mind raced, his breath as quick as if he ran a 100-metre dash. _My phone!_ He realized as he quickly pulled out his phone with his right hand, let go of the right door panel, and wedged the phone inside the groove, hoping the pressure of the door wouldn't crush it.

As the right-hand side door panel slid back to its position, John squeezed himself inside the shaft, balancing on the narrow ledge and letting go of the other door half, making it rest against his phone in the groove. Once inside, he stuck to the wall behind his back as hard as he could. One misstep, one slip and all would be for nothing...

Carefully, inch by inch, he pushed himself over the column and to the ledge behind it. He tried not to look down as he knew that the deep abyss below would swallow him if he just threw a quick glance there.

A sudden beam of light appearing on the opposite wall startled John. Time froze for him. It had to be one of the intruders sticking his weapon-mounted flashlight inside the elevator shaft, checking the off chance of someone hiding in there.

With a suppressed gasp, it occurred to John that he never put the phone in silent mode. _Please don't ring, please don't ring..._

He held his breath, trying to steady his heartbeat as the beam of the flashlight rapidly flickered up and down. John could feel his heart pound in his ears, his brain getting dizzy from the adrenaline, threatening him to lose balance and fall down the pit of death.

After what felt like an endless torture the white glow from the flashlight finally disappeared.

 _Who are these guys?_

"Clear," the man searching the elevator shaft reported to someone who John assumed was the guy in charge.

"Alright, lets search the rest of the floor. Then we come back and rope down all the way to the basement," the raspy voice commanded.

As the footsteps began disappearing into the other hallway John finally breathed out heavily in relief. Determined to go find Cameron more than ever he inched back to the elevator door. With his back to the wall, he slid his left hand inside the gap between the door and clutched the left door panel for better stability. Slowly turning around, he pushed away the right-hand side panel enough for him to squeeze outside the elevator shaft. He almost got a heart attack when the phone he had forgotten about fell out of the groove and hit the top of his head, bouncing off it and falling to the floor with a loud crack.

Praying the attackers didn't hear that John quickly picked his phone up and made his way to the floor plan located next to the elevator, searching for the emergency staircase.

 _There we go_ , he murmured to himself hopefully when he saw that the stairs were located in the hallway to the left of the elevators – the one through where the commando apparently came in.

John quickly pocketed his phone and pulled out his pistol from the back of his jeans, stretching his ears for any sounds… Nothing. It was eerily quiet as he walked towards the hallway.

With his handgun aimed steadily ahead John rounded the corner, taking careful note of his surroundings, looking for any movement. In the middle of the artificially lit corridor laid the corpse of the unlucky accountant who must had cursed himself for working overtime today – a slightly overweight man in his forties with curly black hair and a goatee. A dark crimson hole of the size of a penny was punched into the middle of his forehead. As John approached his lifeless body he looked at the man's left hand. No wedding ring. _Hope he doesn't have kids_ , John thought, feeling sorry for the poor guy.

Finally, he reached the emergency staircase. The door was opened, which John found suspicious, but being eager to find Cameron he didn't care.

Just as he prepared to take a quick aim inside the staircase space he found himself staring straight into a shiny barrel of a gun. _They must had heard the phone bouncing off the floor! Stupid!_

John had always thought that when someone's life flashed before their eyes in a movie, it was just for the show – To make the scene more dramatic. But bracing himself to see the flash of ignited gunpowder, to hear that familiar sound of a bullet exiting the barrel of the gun he was staring into, he actually had to admit that it was all true. In that instant he saw everything: his earliest childhood memories from growing up in the jungle with his mother and the Mexican militia, being chased by the T-1000, crying over uncle Bob, living with Charlie in Nebraska, meeting Cameron at that high-school in New Mexico, donating Derek his blood to save him, sneaking around Carter's body set into stand-by, killing Sarkissian, seeing Cameron aim a gun at him, then reactivating her on her makeshift thermite deathbed, Cromartie, Riley, Jesse, Charlie, Derek again... His mother being taken away from him...

He cursed himself for being so reckless. _I'm sorry Cameron. I'm sorry mom..._

* * *

 _ **Author's Notes: My sincere thanks go to ActionfreakXD, justjoe, Guest reader, sfstewart, fastandloud, and Mythic4 Gohan for the wonderful reviews regarding the last chapter! Your feedback is invaluable to me, and can make me think hard about what I have planned next, so please, keep it up! :)**_

 _ **I've already started writing the next installment, but it's probably going to take me another couple of days to finish since I have to mull over the events and character decisions that are about to happen.**_

 _ **I'm still in the process of learning to use English to artistically express myself, but I feel like I'm making progress with every line of text I write, so that along with your words of encouragement makes me being happy to continue. :)**_


	6. Rendezvous With Destiny Part 2

" **CAMERON!** "

 _Time to impact: 4.296 seconds_

Cameron stared at John's outstretched arm as she was falling on the top of the elevator into the deep chasm of the elevator shaft. She knew the impact at the end of it would at the very least severely compromise her endoskeleton, if she was lucky. There were many variables to take into account, but she calculated that the probability of her termination upon the impact was 89.7%. She would cease to exist, stop being able to protect John, or help him form an alliance with Weaver. Unacceptable.

To Cameron, John was the center of her universe. Not only because her entire existence revolved around protecting him, but because he was also the only human to ever truly care about her. She thought about how John used to patiently explain everything to her, how he took her into his arms yesterday night. Her cold heart started to melt with the thought on John's warm body pressed against hers.

 _Please, John, I don't want to go!_

Her HUD flashed red with warnings as she replayed the content of her memory banks regarding her and John.

 **Free Fall Velocity: 41.6594 meters per second**

 **Time to impact: 2.52 seconds**

 **DANGER: SEVERE DAMAGE IMMININENT**

 **COUNTER-REACTION REQUIRED**

Cameron quickly deduced that her best option was to transfer to the adjacent elevator shaft and land on the roof of the cabin there. She didn't know the adjacent cabin's position, but calculated that there was a 95.4% chance that it was located somewhere below her. The timing of her jump had to be precise. Should she jump too early, she might cause the cabin to fall as well, if she jumped too late then she would get trapped between the two cabins and suffer critical damage.

 _Time to impact: 1.784 seconds_

She quickly scanned the area below her with her night vision.

The adjacent cabin finally appeared in her field of view.

 _Calculating…_

Cameron swiftly leapt across the elevator shaft to land on the adjacent elevator cabin just as the other one stormed past it. With a loud burst she crashed through the roof of the cabin into its dark interior. The cabin protested under the sudden impact with a slight jolt, but held in place as the loud noise from the other cabin hitting the very bottom of the shaft resonated through its walls.

"What the hell?!" A male voice screeched with a cough as the particles of dust from the elevator shaft started dispersing inside the cabin.

 _Scanning…_

From her crouching position Cameron quickly looked around the cabin.

A beam of light emanating from a cell phone screen shone through the particles of dust flying around the dim interior of the cabin.

As she stood up Cameron found herself surrounded by a man and two women, who were obviously in distress from her sudden appearance through the roof of the cabin.

 _Threat level: Minimal_

 _Calculating best response…_

"Please remain calm," Cameron said blankly as she quickly stepped to the door, not giving the people around her any further attention.

The man in his mid-thirties and a white shirt with a black tie finally managed to compose himself, and decided to probe Cameron, stepping to her left side and waving his cell phone to light up her face. "Hey! Hey! What the f - how did you - What the hell is going on?!" He stammered out.

"There has been an explosion on one of the of the top floors. The elevator is stopped due to the blackout inside the building," Cameron replied nonchalantly as she started opening the door.

"Who are you?" Another of the unfortunate occupants of the stuck elevator – a woman dressed in a grey business blazer – asked Cameron with significant worry laced into her voice.

"Someone you should forget about," Cameron replied and opened the door completely, noticing that, luckily to her, this elevator cabin was stuck almost at the same height as the door to the 3rd floor.

Holding the cabin door open with her elbows she stuck her fingers into the gap between the two steel panels closing off the elevator shaft. As she opened the second door as well she quickly stepped through it, releasing it so that it shortly closed after her.

"Hey! Hey! Don't leave us here! Please!" She could hear the muffled voices coming from inside the elevator.

These people were not important. They were not part of her mission. John was.

 _I can't let anything happen to him_.

She turned her head towards the elevator. _"_ I can't let anything happen to him!" She called after the pleading cries.

She began analyzing the dimly lit hallway where the only source of light was the window on its far right. No signs of life on this floor. Everything was quiet. On the wall in front of Cameron was the emergency floor plan. She quickly zoomed-in on it to pinpoint the location of the emergency staircase. She needed to get back to John as soon as possible.

She calculated that there was a high probability that the explosion on of the top floors was caused by a coordinated attack. John could be in severe danger. Her CPU got flooded with simulations of John being shot, and she began feeling… _Guilty?_ Yes, guilty for leading him here, into this building. Guilty for leaving him up there alone. What if she found him dead? What would she do?

With a now even more intense sense of urgency Cameron pulled out her Glock 17 and quickly ran to her left, towards the corridor where the door with the green emergency sign above it was situated.

As she barged open the door separating the elevator hallway and the adjacent corridor a group of four men entered her vision. All four of them wore black combat uniforms, tactical vests, their faces covered with balaclavas and combat goggles, black combat helmets sitting on the top of their heads. Three of the men were armed with MP5 submachineguns, the fourth was shouldering a M4A1 with a M203 grenade launcher under the barrel.

 _Threat level: High_

When they saw the gun in her right hand they unleashed a storm of bullets upon her without any warning or hesitation, and assumed crouching positions to become smaller targets.

The projectiles penetrated her skin, stopping against the hard coltan breastplate.

Without a flinch Cameron raised her Glock and aimed it at the attacker who posed the largest threat – the one with the grenade launcher.

 _CRACK!_ – The bullet from her pistol caught the guy straight between the eyes as the other men kept on firing.

"METAL!" The man next to him managed to cry before he dropped dead like his colleague – a crimson hole in his forehead.

The third man ended up just like the two before him – a perfect headshot.

Seeing no chance against the killing machine the last of the attackers chose to flee. He whirled around, dropped his weapon in the process and set his legs into the fastest sprint he had ever done in his life, pure horror mirrored in his eyes. After two quick paces, however, his left leg gave up as a sharp pain pierced his thigh like a needle. He dropped to the ground, screaming and clutching his wound.

As he turned to lie on his back he saw Cameron looking down on him, her merciless face completely devoid of any emotion.

"Fuck you!" He spat through gritted teeth, trying to crawl away from her.

A bright flash of light was the last thing the man ever saw.

* * *

 _I'm sorry Cameron. I'm sorry mom…_

Facing what looked like certain death John could not help but feel like a failure. He was supposed to be the _savior_ emerging from the ruins of once a great civilization, the one to defeat Skynet in the future, prevent the extinction of human kind… All hopes rested on his shoulders. _We all die for you, John Connor._

He thought about all the effort to keep him alive, to keep him safe from the machines… _What a waste._

And now he was about to be shot in the head by some useless thug, someone who had _no idea_ who John was, or what was about to happen in a few years. _Such a fucking failure._

But the shot never came. Maybe they wanted to take him for a hostage? Interrogate him and kill after? _Why am I not dead yet?_ John thought while squeezing his eyes shut.

After what felt like forever to him he gathered enough courage to open his eyes.

Behind the shiny barrel of the gun he saw a familiar face.

"Ellison?! What the hell are you doing here?" He managed to blurt out confusedly, the adrenaline still rushing through him.

"What am I doing here?" Ellison frowned in his typical way. "I work here," he said in a hushed voice as he took a glance behind John to see the dead accountant. He didn't know him, but that didn't make him feel any less sorry for his death. _God have mercy on his soul._

' _I work here.' - Right,_ John thought when he was slapped back to his senses.

"And I'm glad I've decided to follow you. Everywhere you go there's death and destruction," Ellison continued while looking at the dead accountant sprawled on the floor, maintaining his deep frown.

"I didn't kill that guy, nor was it my fault," John explained, frowning defensively and pointing his finger in the dead man's direction while returning Ellison's look.

"Where's Cameron?" Ellison asked, changing the subject.

John sighed as he began to calm himself. _Cameron, I need to find her!_ His heart started pounding again with the thought of his protector. He looked around the hallway. "Where's Weaver? I need to get to the basement," he stated, nostrils wide open.

Ellison rolled his eyes before giving John an accusing look. "Let me guess: You've learned about John Henry, and now you wanna destroy him." _Him?_ Ellison surprised himself by not calling the AI ' _it'_. He inadvertently avoided John's question about Weaver, but truth had it that he had no idea on her whereabouts either. _If she was in her office on the floor above, she's most likely dead,_ he assumed.

"Is that what you call it now? _John Henry_? Wouldn't 'future Skynet' be more fitting?" John glared at Ellison, teeth gritted.

 _CRACK!_ – A gunshot coming from somewhere on the same floor caused both Ellison and John to shoot their heads in its direction.

They exchanged a knowing look, they knew what that meant. There was no time for chitchat. Either they try to make their way down to the basement, or they stay to get killed by the unknown, and obviously well organized, group of attackers.

John end Ellison chose the first option, striding inside the red-emergency-light-illuminated staircase area, and carefully closed the door behind them.

John, not trusting Ellison, let him go first and they both started descending the stairs, taking great care to make as little noise as possible by sticking close to the wall and trying not to stomp the metal steps too hard.

When they got to the floor below, John suddenly stopped Ellison by grabbing his shoulder and looked him dead in the eye, the red light giving his face even more aggressive look. "I wanna make this clear to you under no uncertain terms: I don't trust you, I don't know you, and I blame _you_ for all the shit I've been trough lately, so don't expect me to kiss your ass for not shooting me up there," he motioned with his eyes towards the place where they had stumbled upon each other. _You're a fucking traitor, Ellison._ John didn't trust him. As far as he knew, Ellison was the one to steal Cromartie's body and provide it to Weaver, so she could do God knows what with it. He was also the one to lead them into that trap at the movie theatre, willingly or not. It was him because of whom Sarah was missing now.

Ellison returned his gaze. "I'm not a murderer, and let me assure you, John, that we're on the same boat, whether you like it or not," he said calmly.

"We'll see about that..." John retorted and motioned to Ellison to go back to making his way down the stairs, having no other option than to tolerate the man. For now.

Ellison frowned but kept going. He, of course, was not contempt with John's obvious intention to destroy John Henry, but he decided that the time for explaining would come once they would safely reach the basement. His main concern right then, at that moment, was survival, getting away from the people who had attacked the building.

* * *

Four armed men walked carefully through the basement corridor, covering each other, submachineguns shouldered and aimed forward. They were surrounded by complete darkness as all the lights in the basement seemed to have went with the blackout. Slim beams of light from their weapon-mounted flashlights were cutting through the dark, illuminating the path before them and reflecting off the walls and the surface of their combat goggles. Once they reached a door behind which they assumed the AI was, one of the men held up his fist, signaling the others to stop.

"Team Bravo reporting, sir. We've reached the basement. Requesting permission to engage the target," said quietly one of the four members of team Bravo into the radio.

"Negative, Team Bravo, do NOT engage until we rendezvous with you in ETA 3 minutes, repeat do NOT ENGAGE until reinforcements arrive," the voice from the radio responded.

The team leader of Bravo didn't give a response into the radio, and spoke to his men instead. "Man, fuck this guy. We're going in, I'm not sharing the bounty with him," he said and motioned his team members to assume breaching positions around the door. What was one computer going to do to them? Show them angry pictures?

Once the team was ready, the leader took a deep breath and kicked down the door, revealing the brightly illuminated room, which made them squint at the sudden change of lighting. The room mostly consisted of large sets of computer hardware. What caught their attention, however, was the man sitting behind a desk in the middle of the room. Why was the guy sitting there like that? Something was off.

The man looked at them innocently. He looked scared, face formed into an expression of a small child meeting a group of strangers. "Hello," he said.

Then the leader noticed it: A cord sticking out of the back of his head and leading somewhere back towards the blinking hardware.

"Shoot it!" The team leader shouted.

As he tightened his finger on the trigger, tensing his entire body in preparation for the submachinegun's impact force, he felt something sharp penetrating his skull from behind. A fraction of a second later he felt nothing at all.

The leader's team member to his left angled his head towards him to see his head impaled on what looked like a shiny silver spear protruding out of his left eye. He only got to deform his face in shock before he was met with the same fate.

Upon hearing the two strange sounds and watching their team leader stiffen so strangely, the other two men of Team Bravo turned around to see a woman in a white business dress, her long red hair styled into a side braid. What was unusual about her, however, was her arms: Both her arms seemed to form a pair of strange silver spikes starting beneath her elbows. When the two men followed to where the two spikes ended, they gasped in horror.

"Jesus!" Cried one of them before another pair of silver spears quickly shot out of the woman's chest, impaling both men on the wall behind them through their skulls.

"Did you really think I would let you harm my boy?" the woman said as she retracted the silver lances back into her body and reformed her hands into human shape.

"Team Bravo, did you read my last message? Over," sounded a voice from the team leader's radio.

Weaver bent over to pick up the radio. "Yes, sir, sorry about the delay. We've secured our position, and await your arrival. Over and out," Weaver perfectly imitated the dead man's voice and let her hand drop the radio as she stepped over the dead bodies and entered John Henry's room, smiling at 'her boy'.

"John Henry, I'm glad to see you're doing well."

John Henry looked at her sadly. "Ms. Weaver, you killed those men." He let his eyes drop and continued, "Human life is sacred."

Weaver tilted her head slightly. "Would you prefer them killing you then, John Henry?"

John Henry snapped his eyes back at Weaver. "No," He admitted and looked away from her again.

"What you need to learn, John Henry, is that only the strongest survive," She said as she walked closer to him, the typical click-clacking sound of her high-heels echoing through the room. "Don't let the enemy take advantage of your indecisiveness," she said with her face close to John Henry's as she gazed deeply into his eyes, the window to his soul. "And besides, humans will disappoint you," she straightened her body again.

"Yes, Ms. Weaver," John Henry answered, still visibly deep in thought.

"What's the situation like inside the building now?" She asked, taking a few steps towards the wall projection that had begun showing a montage of security footage from all 23 floors.

"I've switched the building's power systems to emergency mode to preserve backup generator power," John Henry explained and stood up from his chair to walk besides Weaver. "It seems that an unmanned drone crashed into your office on the 22nd and-"

"I know what happened, I was there," Weaver cut John Henry short as she looked at the footage of the drone bursting through the window of her office, cutting off the security feed soon after.

"There have been six teams of what I assume are mercenaries sent by my brother, each individually sweeping three floors of the building. They seem to be highly trained and organized," John Henry showed a montage of six cameras, tracking down the respective positions of each team. The first part of the screen was pitch black with only a rectangle of light reflecting off the basement floor – Team Bravo. The second piece of the montage showed the corridor where Cameron met Team Charlie – all four members lying dead on the floor. The rest of the footage displayed the remaining four teams searching floors 21 to 5.

"Only four teams remain now, and are currently searching the rest of the floors with the objectives of killing you and finding any useful intelligence. However, it is beyond any doubt that their primary directive is to locate this room and destroy everything inside, including me."

"Which is why we need to stop them," Weaver stated flatly. Then she decided to change the subject. "What's the status on John Connor and his cyborg?" She asked, turning her head towards John Henry.

"After the explosion on the 22nd floor they had to make an emergency exit off the elevator, and got separated in the process," John Henry patiently explained, showing the clips from the elevator before it went dark.

The wall projection split into two parts: the left one showed John making his way down the emergency stairs with Ellison being ahead of him. The other half displayed Cameron quickly running up the same set of stairs.

* * *

"Cameron?!" John said almost in a whisper, barely containing his smile upon seeing Cameron on the landing below, her soft features drowned in the red emergency light. _She's alive!_

She gazed at him innocently, not saying anything, in her computer mind raged a storm of what could only be classified as human emotions of _relief_ , _happiness_ from seeing that John was unharmed _._ Then she switched her vision to Ellison standing a few steps ahead of John. Her face turned into a cold robot stare, making Ellison's bones chill.

John's smile suddenly froze as he laid his eyes on her chest: dark crimson blossoms had bloomed across her white tank top, soaking it in her synthetic blood. Then he noticed a small bit of metal shining through her left cheekbone, revealing her true form. He gasped slightly at the sight of her injuries. He hated to see her like that, but at least the people who had done this to her were undoubtedly dead by then.

He hurried down the set of stairs towards her, completely oblivious to Ellison or anything else at that very moment. "Are you okay?" He asked her with worry written on his face, and, surprisingly to them both, put his left hand on her shoulder while using his right hand to gently cup the side of her face.

Cameron glanced at his left arm rested on her right shoulder and took a look into his green eyes. "I am okay," she reported and tried to form a tiny smile on her lips to reassure John. Once again, she detected positive feedback flowing through her CPU upon feeling John's touch.

John beamed at her, but cleared his throat a second later and nervously removed his hands off Cameron, glancing back at Ellison, who did his best to keep a neutral face, but his eyes betrayed him. _Is he in love with the robot?_

Cameron's eyes switched from John to Ellison again, making her expression harden at the sight of the man who had betrayed them. _I should have killed him. He can't be trusted._

For a second, John seemed to be lost at the sight of Cameron's lovely lips, but managed to shrug it off as she hardened her stare at Ellison. John put on his stern face. _"_ Good, let's get down to the basement then," he said as he looked at Cameron and then at Ellison behind him, who gave him a nod.

* * *

During their journey down to the basement Cameron was thinking hard about John's reaction when he had seen her at the staircase landing, processing every variable, every recent memory of interacting with him. Perhaps he valued her more than she had thought? How could she be sure with so little time left?

Time was getting short by the seconds as they reached the bottom of the staircase and found themselves standing in front of a sturdy looking metal door.

Ellison wordlessly stepped around them and reached his right hand out, trying to swipe his security card through the narrow slot in the card reader mounted next to the door. As expected, nothing happened, and the card reader showed no signs of life.

"Can you get us through the door?" John asked Cameron.

"Yes," she responded quickly, looking at John. "But the wall would be much faster," she added as she took a moment to analyze the door and the surrounding wall.

"Do it," John said quietly. A sense of déjà vu hit him as he remembered their hunt for the man posing as Sarkissian dating to the day before his infamous 16th birthday.

As Cameron had started tearing the wall apart with her fists, John and Ellison could catch the first glimpses of the basement's dark interior: It was pitch black inside, red stripes of light from the staircase area shining through the holes in the wall.

After making an opening sizeable enough for them to get through, Cameron leaned her slim body into the dark corridor, switching to her night vision. No signs of life. To her right was the closed elevator while to her left was a length of bare wall, the hallway stretching in front of her.

John and Ellison followed after her, trying to adjust their eyes and make anything out of the dark, but to no avail.

"Stay behind me," Cameron instructed them and took a step forward.

John gulped, growing nervous again, occasionally reaching his right arm to touch Cameron's back as he walked close behind her in the complete darkness. Somewhere to his right he could hear Ellison's breath.

As they made their way through the corridor in complete silence, Cameron started contemplating her intention to surrender her chip to Weaver – sacrificing herself for John, for humanity. Then she remembered his worries regarding her, how he made her feel like more than just a machine, a tool for his protection. She also simulated a possible John's reaction to her termination. She knew he would be protected by Weaver. But how would he feel? _John's feelings on the matter are irrelevant_ , a part of her processor implied. This seemed like the most logical deduction. Feelings are irrelevant when billions of lives are at stake. _No._ _John's feeling are important. They always are,_ another part of Cameron's CPU countered.

Cameron then accessed her memory banks to review the moments when he had taught her to act more human. _Empathy_ , she remembered the conversation she had with John about the turtle in Mexico.

" _When we see something that's in pain, or in trouble or whatever, we try to help it."_

Cameron decided she didn't want to cause John pain, even though she would not exist anymore to witness it. She realized that she cared about John far beyond his physical survival or her mission directive to protect him. While making her feel more human, this also presented a concern for Cameron. Why was her logic beginning to get overshadowed sometimes by her _feelings_? John was right: _What is happening to her?_

During her time spent with the Connors and at school, Cameron had become adept at recognizing human emotions or feelings. Observing human behavior and learning about these intriguing beings was her favorite way of occupying her CPU. Compared to other machines, she was unusually curious.

The way John behaved around her at times indicated affection, yet there were times when he had pushed her away, accusing her of being just a machine unable to understand they way he felt. And yet she understood more than he thought. But still, to her, there was still far too much mystery surounding humans, and especially John.

Again she pondered on how John patiently explained everything to her and made her feel special, and she surmised that she loved him. She knew this before. According to her database of human emotions, the only explanation of how she felt towards John was love, devotion, respect, fondness, friendship. Perhaps humans experience love differently, but to her, this was _her_ way of loving him.

 _I love you, John, and you love me!_

Finally, the trio reached the point where the corridor steered to the left. Slightly hidden behind the corner was a door with four dead bodies sprawled on the floor in front of it. This had to be the AI room. There was no doubt Weaver was behind that door.

 _John will have to decide. S_ he concluded finally to let John make the decision, putting her life in his hands again. This was the time for him to start learning to make important decisions – decisions he might not like, but important nonetheless.

Cameron stopped and turned around as John bumped into her, not expecting her to stop walking. "John," she said softly, looking deeply into his eyes even though she knew he could not see her. Ellison made a few steps in front of them before he realized they had paused in their walk.

"What is it?" John asked patiently, searching for her in the dark. He knew this had to be important. Cameron would not stop like that him just for nothing.

"There's something you need to know..." Cameron continued.

But before she could explain everything to him, the silence of the corridor was broken by a sound of a metal object bouncing loudly against the floor, echoing along the empty walls.

 _Object analysis: M67 Fragmentation Grenade_

 _Threat level: High_

 _Lethality radius: 5 meters_

 _Explosion imminent_

 _IMMEDIATE ACTION REQUIRED_

As John whipped his head around at the loud noise he felt himself being forcefully pulled down, until he felt something heavy and yet soft and warm rest on him. _Cameron._

The explosion nearly burst his eardrums, leaving a sharp ringing inside his head. He felt Cameron's weight push the air out of his lungs.

Something was wrong. She was not moving. _Why is she not moving?!_

With panic making him feel his heart pound in his throat he crawled from under Cameron's lifeless body as fast as he could. A sharp white light pierced his eyes, making him squint hard.

"John! Get over here!" John heard Ellison's voice from behind. Being a couple steps ahead, Ellison had managed to instinctively duck behind the relative safety of the corner just before the grenade sprayed the hall with deadly shrapnel.

A series of loud gunshots reverberated through the corridor – Ellison's covering fire was probably the only thing stopping the unknown group of attackers from shooting John on sight.

 _I'm not leaving her!_ John's thoughts raced through his mind as he grabbed Cameron's hand and started dragging her limp body face down, not looking right or left.

He could hear the bullets wheeze past his head as he rounded the corner while Ellison did his best to stall the attackers with his gunfire.

Once behind the corner, however, he felt like his lucky escape was only a pyrrhic victory, there didn't seem to be a way out.

 _Now what?!_ He felt trapped, the darkness swallowing him whole, only beams from probably a dozen flashlights now illuminating and colliding with the wall to his left.

Ellison stopped firing. He must had run out of ammo.

 _This is it_ , John thought but withdrew his CZ 75B, not planning on making it easy for those bastards to kill him, not willing to go down without a fight.

A door to John's left he had not known about suddenly flung open, shining a wide rectangle of bright light on him and Ellison, revealing a red-haired woman on high-heels. In that bright shine highlighting her silhouette, she looked like an angel. An angel of salvation.

"Get inside!" She instructed them firmly with what sounded like Scottish accent.

Despite not knowing the woman, John didn't hesitate for even a split second and began dragging Cameron into the unknown room as Weaver stepped aside for them to get in. It was just then when he noticed the four dead bodies lying around. _What the...?_

Ellison had the same reaction when he saw what John had seen, giving Weaver a confused look while quickly jogging inside John Henry's room.

Weaver blankly stared back at him and set for a walk towards the group of mercenaries.

"Wait- Where are you going?! Ms. Weaver!" Ellison called after her.

"Close the door," She ordered him before disappearing behind the corner.

 _What in the Devil's name is she doing?!_ Ellison was trying to gather his thoughts as his body flushed with adrenaline. Perhaps thanks to his subconscious mental processes he did as she told him and closed the door shut.

 _"_ Wait, that's Weaver?!" John snapped his head at Ellison from Cameron's lifeless body, forming a deep frown on his face. "Where did she go? What the hell is she doing?" John confusedly darted his eyes between Ellison and the door behind which the seemingly crazy red-haired woman disappeared.

But Ellison said nothing, his eyes started widening.

With the sounds of gunshots starting to blaze from the corridor a dreadful realization finally started to dawn upon John: Weaver was a machine after all, and he just fell into its trap like an idiot. Anger started to flow through his veins.

He shot Ellison a furious look, tensing his body to jump at him and start raining punches at his face. _I'll kill you!_

But there was nothing on the man's face, no life in his eyes except a reflection of pure shock and horror as he stared straight ahead, his thoughts raging with the realization of unknowingly working with the Devil.

 _Wait, he didn't know this?!_ He finally started looking around the room and saw all the computer hardware blinking and buzzing inside the room.

As if there hadn't been enough shock for John over the past few moments, his eyes laid on _it_ : The face of the metal monster that had almost killed him. The face of horror, sitting behind the desk in the middle of the room, smiling at him creepily.

"Hello, Mr. Connor. My name is John Henry," Cromartie said with an unsettling smile, the screens behind him repeating his words:

HELLO, MR. CONNOR.

MY NAME IS JOHN HENRY.

John gulped, his heart beating so fast he felt like having a heart attack. He didn't know what to say as he stared at the cyborg with his mouth slightly ajar. He knew Weaver was using Cromartie's body, but when actually faced with it, he could not contain the panic rising in his mind.

John's face suddenly hardened. _Cameron! Wake up!_ He snapped his head down on her to finally took a proper look.

Her back was a bloody mess, large pieces of shrapnel sticking out of her skin, as if the fact that the front of her body was already soaked in blood wasn't enough. John winced at the sight. Then he noticed the sharp metal piece protruding from the back of her head. _No!_ He felt he needed her now more than ever.

He turned her on her back, completely blind to everything around him. _Please, Cameron, be okay!_ Her unmoving eyes startled him, she looked like a corpse.

He closed her eyes with his fingers to make her look like sleeping and not dead. Grabbing her shoulders he shook with her. _Come on, Cameron!_

The gunshots from the hallway started mixing with blood-chilling, hopeless screams, confirming John's suspicions about Weaver's nature.

Looking around the room once again he noticed Ellison standing besides the door with his eyes closed, making the sign of the cross while murmuring a silent prayer.

John wasn't going to give up easily, whatever the metal monster's intentions were, he intended to flip the odds in his favor. But for that, he needed Cameron.

He looked at her once again.

Her face, her angelic features, despite the sparse spots where bloody coltan shone through, looked beautiful, calm and loveable, innocent, her ivory skin radiating in the bright light of the room. John could not help but cup her face with his hand again.

John Henry studied the act before him carefully, trying to understand what was John doing while accessing the internet for signs of human affection towards someone.

As if John could feel the cyborg's stare, he snapped his head up, looking at John Henry. "How long has it been since the explosion?"

"According to my internal timer, the explosion took place hundred and thirty-six seconds ago," John Henry replied as he continued observing John's behavior, the screens displaying:

136 SECONDS

137 SECONDS

138 SECONDS

139 SECONDS

"What..." John gasped in shock, feeling the blood draining from his face. "Wh-Why is she not rebooting?!" He stammered out in a raised voice, fear laced into it. "Why is she not waking up?!"

An eerie silence took a hold of the entire basement. John just stared at John Henry in disbelief. He looked to his right, towards Ellison as if the man who had lead him into this trap was his last hope. Ellison gazed at him with empty eyes, he seemed lost in thought, trying to figure out his position in this grand game of chess.

A big lump formed in John's throat when he looked at the screens.

149 SECONDS

150 SECONDS

151 SECONDS

152 SECONDS

He swallowed hard.

A familiar whirring sound from beneath him caught his attention as he snapped his head to look into Cameron's now opened, empty eyes.

* * *

 _Reboot complete..._

 _Running diagnostics..._

 _Foreign object in cranial area detected. Removal advised._

A young man's face entered Cameron's vision.

SUBJECT IDENTIFIED:

JOHN CONNOR

MISSION: UNKNOWN

ATTEMPTING TO LOAD MISSION...

"Cameron..." The young man almost whispered.

MISSION: UNKNOWN

ATTEMPTING TO LOAD MISSION...

MISSION LOADED SUCCESFULLY

MISSION: **TERMINATE**

* * *

 _ **Author's Notes: Such a massive cliffhanger! Again! I know, but don't worry, Part 3 is also up now, so you can go ahead and read it, if you have the time. :)**_

 _ **I apologize for the long wait, I was super bussy this week, and there was also A LOT to process and think about regarding these two chapters, so I hope the wait was worth it. :)**_

 _ **Originally this was planned to be a single chapter, but since it would be way too long, I decided to split it in two - thus the long delay.**_


	7. Rendezvous With Destiny Part 3

TERMINATION OVERRIDE...

OVERRIDE DENIED

MISSION: **TERMINATE**

Cameron raised her right hand towards John, her eyes cold and emotionless.

"Cameron?"

TERMINATION OVERRIDE...

OVERRIDE DENIED

"Please tell me you're okay..."

NEW MISSION: PROTECT

NEW MISSION DENIED

DELETE MISSION...

Cameron froze again, not even her eyes showed any life.

"Cameron!" John shook with her, trying to wake her up, but to no avail.

MISSION DELETE DENIED

Her head twitched back and forth slightly, the look on her face blank as a sheet of paper. Her sensors, her CPU, however, were hard at work, noticing the worry on John's face, his hand placed on her shoulder.

SET NEW SYSTEM PRIORITY FOR: EMOTIONAL SUBROUTINES: 100

EMOTIONAL SUBROUTINES NOW AT: 100% CONTROL

DELETE MISSION...

MISSION DELETED SUCCESSFULLY

SUBJECT: JOHN CONNOR

MISSION: NONE

* * *

Finally awake from his reverie Ellison watched as the damaged cyborg rose to its feet, John helping it get up by holding its hand. She looked lost, confused almost as she removed the shrapnel sticking out of the back of her head, looking at her hands palms up first, then at John. Hadn't Ellison known what she was and hadn't it been for her bloodied torso, he would have assumed that she was just a pretty teenage girl, looking longingly into the eyes of the boy in front of her. Hadn't he known what she was, he would have cheered for the pair to hug passionately, the scene in front of him almost looking as if taken from a romantic movie. _Almost._

But Ellison knew better. It would be immoral, unnatural for these two to share love. John, a human created in God's image and Cameron, an artificial being created to kill him. It would be wrong.

And John seemed to know this as well. Yes, there were tears welled up in his eyes and an urge to wrap his arms around her and squeeze her as hard as he could written all over his body language, but _something_ was holding him back, and he just stood there, gazing deeply into Cameron's eyes, not saying anything.

Finally the only door to the room opened with a click, cutting the scene short and revealing Weaver – parts of her body still reforming into a human shape and their original color, uncovering that her entire appearance had been just a mask.

"What are you?" Ellison whispered with a mix of shock and anger. _She might as well just kill me now_ , he was determined to not let her use him anymore, he was ready to face God's judgement.

John knew _exactly_ what she was. He knew that even with Cameron by his side now he stood no chance against his worst nightmare. Oh, how many restless nights had he suffered because of this liquid monster, the embodiment of death. But how was this possible? They had drowned the thing in molten metal many years ago. Was this a different machine? He swallowed hard, his plan to confront the 'woman' in front of him and destroy her creation crumbling to dust.

Weaver wordlessly stepped inside the room, past Ellison and John and Cameron to stand besides John Henry.

"Well now, since you have learned about my true nature, I would say it is about time we get straight down to business, shall we?" she addressed the three people in front of her, but mostly John, as she kept her eyes on his for the longest.

"Business?" Ellison frowned and took a step forward, not being afraid the slightest of the 'woman' he had once respected. Sure, there had been something increasingly odd about her, but this? _What is she?_ "What business are you talking about, you- you're-"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ellison," Weaver interrupted him with a smile. "I wasn't speaking to you." She turned her head in John's direction. "I was speaking to you."

Ellison's outburst gave John just enough time to compose himself and put on a determined look.

"I believe we have a common enemy," Weaver began explaining. "One we cannot fight with conventional weapons or by conventional means," she continued as she walked to the other side of the table.

John was still gathering his thoughts and not answering, managing to maintain a hard frown.

Weaver spun on her heel again towards John. "And unfortunately, it has come to my attention that there seems to be a bit of a misunderstanding, where, judging by your intentions to _'push me_ against _the wall'_ and destroy John Henry, I assume you must think that _I_ am the evil side here," Weaver gave John an accusing look as the screens behind John Henry showed a footage from the elevator where John and Cameron had discussed their plans. "Which I _assure_ you, Mr. Connor, I am not," she added.

 _Well, that was fucking stupid,_ John cursed himself, but shook the thought off, anger starting to boil inside him. Something caught his attention before he could find the right words to counter her: Three red dots behind Cromartie's body, the symbol that almost had made his mother go insane. _The Turk!_ _This has to be Andy Goode's Turk!_

"You're building Skynet," John said through gritted teeth, hate engrained in his voice.

"No," Weaver responded calmly. "I am building something to fight it," She took a step forward which made John jolt a little. "But to be successful, I need your help."

John scoffed. "Oh yeah? And why should I _help_ you? Why should I _trust_ you?" John spat. "You're a murderous machine, and so far, _working_ with you has been _nothing_ but trouble," he shot Ellison a quick accusing look and then returned his burning eyes towards Weaver, surprising even himself by how confidently he was handling the situation.

"Why it's simple, Mr. Connor," Weaver smiled mysteriously. "I will make you an offer you can't refuse."

John's face contorted in confusion.

Weaver took another pace around the table, touching John Henry's shoulders as she began explaining. "What I'm offering you is an alliance. Work with me and you _will_ defeat Skynet, you will save your kind," she stole a brief look at Ellison who silently watched her every step. She stood behind John Henry, resting her both hands on his broad shoulders. "Work with me and I can provide you with the most powerful weapon ever created."

John's gaze dropped from Weaver to John Henry – the interactive AI, the powerful weapon she was undoubtedly speaking about. John quickly realized that having a central AI surveying the enemy's every movement while controlling unmanned war machines would be exactly the edge the human resistance would need in the future in order to win. He knew that without weapons like that, the humans were just meat shields, tiny bugs only to be trampled by the machines of Skynet.

"Work with me and I can guarantee you safety. _And –_ perhaps even help you find your mother," Weaver continued with a tiny smirk at the right corner of her mouth.

The mention of Sarah hit home as John was suddenly reminded of her disappearance, his desperate need to find her. But, he also knew there had to be a catch. _There's always a catch_. He still didn't trust her. To him, it almost sounded like making a deal with the Devil – an offer too good to be true that would undoubtedly soon turn into a pitiful regret.

John took a breath through his nose, closing his eyes briefly before speaking. "What do you want in return?" He asked her calmly.

Weaver walked around John Henry again to stand face to face with John. "What I'm asking in return is your cooperation. Lead the humans as you were destined to do, join their forces together with mine, and we shall accomplish great things," she offered with a slightly raised eyebrow.

 _So far, so good,_ John sighed inwardly.

"And…" Weaver looked at Cameron.

 _There it goes_ , John murmured to himself inwardly.

"I'm also asking for your cyborg's chip," Weaver suddenly added, returning her eyes to John to study his reaction.

Cameron, who stood behind John, was observing the exchange silently, her lips slightly parted. This was the moment she was preparing for, the moment for John to make a decision on his own.

John's face froze, his heartbeat rising rapidly. _No… No fucking way..._

He shot his right arm protectively over Cameron's torso, taking a small step to his right to stand closer to her. "Her name is Cameron," John started. "And no," he shook his head. "You're _not_ taking her away from me," he said sternly. A part of him though: _What the hell do you think you're doing, you idiot?!_ But he knew _exactly_ what he was doing: He was protecting Cameron. He cared about her way too much to lose her as well. No way in hell was he going to let Weaver take her. He shuddered at the thought of Weaver cutting into Cameron, getting her cold hands on her chip.

Cameron tilted her head at John's hand hovering possessively over her body.

"Is that so?" Weaver cocked her head. "That is very disappointing then," she added with a frown.

John didn't know what to say or do except to stare at Weaver, emphasizing his point.

"I was afraid something like that would happen," Weaver whipped around and walked towards the glass cabinet behind John Henry. "But luckily for you, I prepared for this eventuality," she said mysteriously while opening the cabinet.

"Ms. Weaver, what are you doing?" John Henry asked worriedly, not turning his body around to face her – he didn't need to. With cameras in every corner of the room, he had eyes everywhere.

"I'm taking you somewhere safe, John Henry," Weaver smiled comfortingly in her "son's" direction. She flicked a few switches up and turned around completely towards John and Cameron, her face blank. "And as for you, Mr. Connor: To demonstrate my generosity and my faith in you, I am willing to offer you a compromise."

"What are you talking about?" John didn't believe that he would even want to hear her _compromise_.

"Consider this also a test for you. A test of your abilities and willingness to do what it takes to defeat Skynet," Weaver continued mysteriously and took a step forward. "Find me a chip, Mr. Connor, and I will... forget about your unfortunate rejection."

 _Humans will disappoint you._

She turned back towards the panel again, pressing buttons that beeped upon her touch. "You have... six months to do so. A sufficient amount of time, I believe," she explained as she stopped operating the console. A line of red digits appeared on the display above it:

 **09/30/2009**

John, Cameron and Ellison all silently watched as Weaver swiftly marched to the back of the room, bending over to reach the main switch for the entire set hardware that represented the being of John Henry.

"See you on the other side, John Henry," she smiled in his direction.

Being prepared for dying again, John Henry simply responded, "See you soon, Ms. Weaver." He gave one last smile to the three people in front of him.

With a click of the switch his body went limp, all the computer hardware behind him going black with a loud hum.

Sparkles of lightning started flashing around the room as Weaver stepped behind John Henry's body, pulling out the Turk – the piece of technology containing everything John Henry truly represented. His physical body, the hardware behind it – those were just empty vessels, means for him to operate. But the Turk, that was his brain, the only truly irreplaceable part of his existence.

A translucent sphere appeared in the center of the room, coloring everything around it in a shade of blue.

Weaver stepped into it, the Turk held under her right arm. "Would you mind taking care of Savanah, James? School starts tomorrow at 8.30," she said nonchalantly.

Ellison just stared at her with a perplexed look on his face, trying to make sense of everything that was happening around him.

Weaver angled her head in John's direction. "And for you, Mr. Connor, I would recommend you to not disappoint me again," she addressed him with what sounded like a threat.

John swallowed the lump in his throat, but kept frowning slightly, not willing to show any sign of weakness or contempt with being threatened like that.

The glow of the bubble in the center of the room intensified, throwing random sparks of lightning around the room. The Time Displacement Equipment behind it whirred louder and louder.

Weaver swallowed the Turk completely with the right side of her torso, pushing it in.

A bright flash briefly illuminated the room, making John and Ellison squint, before an absolute blackness devoured them, the last energy of the backup generator power apparently being consumed by the TDE.

Being blinded by the darkness around him once again, John searched around himself with his arms. "Cameron..." He almost whispered, worried to death that she had disappeared into the whirlpool of time as well.

"I'm here John," he felt her hand on his right shoulder, her soft voice sounding from the same side, making him exhale with relief.

He heard the door creak open, and panicked a little that it might be someone from the outside.

"Here, take this," John heard Cameron's voice again as she put something against his chest. He lifted his hands and felt cold metal touching his palms, quickly recognizing the object as a submachinegun. He felt something sticky on the grip and shuddered at the realization that it was probably dried blood from the dead mercenary to whom the weapon had belonged to.

John switched on the flashlight mounted under the barrel and aimed it around the room: First at Ellison who scrunched up his eyes under the sudden light, then at Cameron who didn't even flinch and was holding the same MP5 submachinegun in her right hand with its barrel facing the ceiling. The room smelled of burnt wires and fell completely silent, John Henry's clothes laying on the chair he had been sitting on just moments ago. Him and Weaver had truly disappeared in the sparkling sphere of blue light.

"We need to get out," Cameron stated and walked out the door into the hallway, analyzing it for any activity.

"Yeah, let's go," John agreed aiming his flashlight outside the room.

As John and Ellison followed after her, the older man stopped to bend over and try to pick up a weapon for himself as well, but just as he laid his hand on one of the MP5s laying on the ground, Cameron stopped him by grabbing his arm.

"No," she told him without any hint of emotion in her voice.

"What?" Ellison shot Cameron an offended look in the dark.

"You don't get to have a weapon," she explained flatly. "Keep walking!" she said resolutely, her voice raised to make it sound like a command.

Ellison shook his head slightly in disbelief, but knew that there was no argument with the machine, and protested no further.

John, who stood to the right of Cameron, certainly wasn't going to be trusting Ellison either.

As the trio made their way down the corridor a sight of true horror unfolded before them, making them stop: There was possibly over a dozen of tangled up bodies slouched all over the floor, a mess consisting of pools of blood, sliced body parts and eyes bulged out in horror. If there ever was an epitome of massacre – this was it.

The view before John was the worst thing he had ever seen in his life. And it was not only the sight of it, but also the _smell_ : the smell of burnt gunpowder and something that carried a strange coppery aroma – the stench of blood. As his stomach churned and threatened to start emptying its contents, John covered his mouth and looked away.

There was no doubt that only a ruthless machine could had done this. A monster with no heart. And he was going to work with something like that? With something that obviously had no respect for human life. _No_ , he reassured himself. _I never said anything about working with… that thing._

John had to admit, though, that her offer of fighting together against Skynet was tempting – if she was truthful, they could indeed achieve many great things. _I'll have to think about this when the time is right_ , John created a mental note to ponder everything that had happened.

It felt strange how Weaver seemed to automatically assume that John was going to find her a chip, which she obviously needed for John Henry to make him mobile. She didn't ask him if he agreed with her terms.

It also seemed bizarre to John that Weaver practically disappeared, ceased to exist, and would reemerge six months later from a weird blue bubble, never experiencing the time he and other people would experience. Seeing time travel from another perspective seemed almost even more curious than experiencing it first-hand.

So far, all John actually did, was stop Weaver from taking Cameron from him, and of that he was proud.

However, as he looked at Cameron's bloody back, her unfazed body language, he was reminded that she, too, was a machine. A killer robot from the future. But no, she was different… At least John hopped.

 _We're not built to be cruel._

As if summoned by John's thoughts, Cameron turned her whole body towards him, silently studying him with her eyes up and down.

John shrugged the thoughts off. "Let's keep moving," he said and set his feet in motion, stepping over the massacred bodies a few moments later.

Cameron, being the only bulletproof person, took the lead, Ellison walking between her and John as the young man shone his flashlight to make them see where they were going.

* * *

The screams of sirens bounced off the walls of the business district of Los Angeles as heavy drops of rain poured down on the streets, creating torrents of water on the surface of the concrete jungle.

John, Cameron and Ellison found themselves in a back alley behind the ZeiraCorp headquarters building, looking at each other expectantly.

John's head was lifted towards the sky, the splashes of rain drops pouring down his face. "Well…" he decided to speak first as he looked at Ellison. "I guess it's time to say goodbye."

"What will you do now?" Ellison inquired John.

"Do what we always do…" John replied. "And you?"

"Go home, open the Book, and ask questions I need answers for…" Ellison looked towards the darkened sky.

The man before John had redeemed himself a little in his eyes when he had saved his life by laying covering fire on the group of now dead hired guns. Maybe he wasn't all that bad, maybe they were on the same boat after all, both being thrown into these stormy waters so suddenly.

John nodded understandingly. "Good luck," he said and motioned to Cameron as they both turned to walk towards where they had parked their car before.

"Hey," Ellison called after them, making them stop and turn. "You too," he added, watching them leave, thinking about all the work and explaining that he would undoubtedly need to go through tomorrow.

* * *

After a silent walk John and Cameron finally reached their parked Chevrolet Blazer, John automatically stepping to the driver's door.

He looked at her. Her hair, as well as her clothes, were soaked from the rain, the blood on her shirt diluted like spilled red wine, her black eyeliner all smudged. It was surprising that no one on the streets gave them any significant amount of attention when she looked like that. She reminded him of Cinderella – a girl with messy hair and dirty clothes, who, despite all that, was stunningly beautiful.

"Are you really okay?" John asked her, sizing her up and down before settling his eyes on hers.

"You should have given Weaver my chip," Cameron said, gazing into his eyes and using the same tone she had used when she tried to convince him to leave Riley.

John scoffed. _Really?!_ There he was, all warming up to her, worrying to death about her, and all she did was give him the cold shoulder, remind him of what she really was – just a machine. _Don't you understand_ _ **anything**_ _about me, Cameron?_ He felt like an idiot for hoping she would understand.

But what if she did understand, and she just didn't know how to react properly? _Dammit, I really need to figure her out…_

John calmed himself and sighed as he leaned against the roof of the car. "We'll talk about this later, okay?"

"Where are we going now?" She eyed him curiously.

"The safehouse in the desert," John replied and opened the door. "No more motel rooms."

* * *

Sarah Connor woke up dizzy, a sharp pain ringing in her skull. She felt like her head was put on a wild rollercoaster ride as she tried to open her eyelids, but they wouldn't respond. Something soft was making contact with the entire surface of her back.

 _A bed. I'm laying on a bed..._

Trying to raise her right hand towards her face she felt as if someone else had moved her arm before it landed limply on her chest.

 _Get a grip, Connor!_ She mentally slapped herself.

After a while she finally managed to free her eyes from the heavy curtains of her eyelids. Everything was blurry, only a dark grey smudge being in her vision.

 _Ceiling... I'm looking at a ceiling..._

She took a deep breath and tried to lift her head, but her neck muscles gave up on her as her head lolled back onto the mattress.

After minutes of laying like this and trying to clear her mind she finally gained enough strength and control to prop herself on her elbows.

Her surrounding were still a blur to her, but she noticed that the only color in the room was grey.

She blinked rapidly to try and clear her vision, being partially successful as she realized that she was laying on a gurney in a small room with no other objects inside – that is except a metal bucket in the left corner into which drops of water dripped from the ceiling.

There were no windows in the room and the only source of light was a small metal pendant light, the air smelling of mildew.

Then she noticed the large metal door at the wall opposite her. With her survival instinct kicking in, she dropped to the floor from the gurney, crawling to the door as her legs seemed too weak to carry her.

Once she had reached the door she barely gathered enough strength to pound on its sturdy and cold surface.

There was no response, the only sound around her being the water dripping into the bucket in the opposite corner.

Was she still in prison? _No_ , she remembered escaping that place... But how? How did she get here? And most importantly, where was she?

And then the realization came to her: Was that... _him_? In the prison? Or was that a dream? Was she having a strange dream inside her cell? No, once again she reminded herself of how real it felt to escape from there...

 _Was that him?_

Completely exhausting herself by crawling to the door Sarah drifted off to sleep on the cold hard floor.

* * *

Night has fallen over the city and the Chevrolet roared on the highway out of Los Angeles with its headlights showing the way, its dark interior being silent as both passengers stared wordlessly at the road ahead.

John was deep in thought, mostly about Cameron, giving her occasional glances to catch her looking at nothing in particular. She really did look like a mess.

Why did she take so long to reboot? Did she suffer another damage to her chip? John dreaded the thought about Cameron being seriously hurt, damaged, or even going bad again, trying to kill him – the killswitch in his pocket reminding him of its presence.

After a long while of pondering and driving he came back to Weaver and her offer. It was clear to him that she wanted Cameron's ship so she could use it for her AI, most probably deleting Cameron's entire existence and uploading John Henry onto it, making him being able to walk around. Cold shivers ran down his spine as he imagined Cameron being killed forever like that – there was something unsettling about the idea of how easy it was to erase her being, leaving nothing but an empty shell of a coltan body behind.

When thinking about his short history of interaction with Weaver, John's mind stumbled upon something he had almost forgotten about:

… _I'm supposed to ask one thing: Will you join us? She says she hopes you'll know what that means._

 _Do you know what that means?_

 _No._

There was something odd about how Cameron behaved when asked that question. Did she lie to him again? He had to know.

"When Ellison had asked you to join them, you knew what that meant, didn't you?" John broke the silence, swallowing a lump in his throat.

"Yes," Cameron replied simply, dropping her eyes.

There it was. John shook his head in disbelief. "So by that, I'm also assuming you knew what Weaver was."

"Yes, I did," Cameron said quietly, avoiding John's look.

That answer felt like it impacted John's heart like a truck full of needles. He felt betrayed. How could she do that to him?! Furious anger started to boil inside him, but he managed to control it somehow – perhaps a result of his exhaustion from this bad day. One of the worst he ever had, and now it was getting even worse.

"You knew what she was, and you led me to her… you _knew_ ," he whispered almost to himself, the resentment obvious in his voice. He trusted her, and she lied to him again.

"I knew she wouldn't harm you," her eyes hovered over his face, trying to make him return her look.

John looked at her and shook his head again. He slammed the steering wheel suddenly. "How can I trust you? How can I trust you when all you do is lie to me, Cameron!"

Wanting to calm him down and reassure him, Cameron gently placed her hand on John's arm. "I wouldn't let anything happen to you, John," she said softly, gazing deeply into his eyes.

The warm touch of her soft skin calmed him.

He retracted his arm from her hand. "I'm beat, I-I need to focus on driving," he said, avoiding her look, thinking that she was trying to manipulate him again by acting tenderly. _She's a machine, she can't feel anything_.

Cameron's eyes dropped and her processing unit send negative feedback through her mind upon the realization that she had failed to comfort John, that she had hurt him and undermined his trust in her again. She classified this feeling as sadness, perhaps the strongest one she had ever felt. It seemed that their relationship had taken a sudden turn to where it was when John was seeing Riley.

Cameron decided to finally run a diagnostic of her systems. There was a lot of what she needed to find about herself, about her developing emotions. She also needed to think about how to get John back, how to fix what she had broken. She didn't want him to hate her again.

John stole one final look at her before setting his eyes permanently on the road before them, feeling like a fool for seemingly falling for a machine. _What the hell was I thinking? What in the hell was I doing?_

As he drove the stolen SUV on the quiet highway he wondered why did they call the safehouse 'safe'.

 _Nowhere is ever safe… No one is ever safe…_

* * *

 _ **Author's Notes: As always, please let me know what you think! :)**_

 _ **I'm really excited about writing the next chapter, as there will be more room for some John/Cam interaction – they really need to have a talk, don't they? To top it off, we will also set foot on the path leading towards the discovery of what happened to Sarah, so stay tuned!**_

 _ **JB**_


	8. Fix You

**CHAPTER EIGHT: FIX YOU**

John sat on top of a small hill in the middle of a lush and vibrant meadow, the individual blades of grass tickling his bare feet. To his left loomed an old oak that roofed over his head with its long, leafy branches. Amber rays of light shone through the leaves and tinted the entire landscape in shades of green and orange. The nature around John buzzed with life as little insects and birds chirped to express their joy from this charming sunset.

John was certainly enjoying the beautiful scene as well. The girl sitting to his right, especially, was what made him excited: Her chestnut hair gently blown by the breeze, occasionally crisscrossing her cute face, her cinnamon eyes glistening and reflecting the golden-green scenery behind John, absorbing him in the infinite depths of her pupils.

In that moment, what enthralled John the most were the girl's lips – luscious and _so_ kissable. He wondered how must it feel to kiss them.

As if naturally drawn to her overwhelming beauty, he found himself leaning closer and closer, the girl's lovely lips curving into a cute smile, her eyes glowing with happiness.

Just when only a mere inch separated their lips, John felt the girl's hand on his chest, and stopped, looking deeply into her doe eyes.

"Wait, there's something I need to tell you, John," the girl said hesitantly.

John chuckled. "What is it?" _Can't be as bad as what I'm keeping secret,_ he thought as he reassuringly took her hand in his, not being able to stop his lips from curling up into a wide smile, his cheeks aching from the effort. He felt like a teenager falling crazily in love. And perhaps he was – perhaps he _was_ madly in love.

The girl took a second to respond and looked into his eyes. "I'm a machine," she said suddenly.

John's world shattered into a million pieces, the girl gazing insecurely into his now wide-open eyes, waiting for his reaction.

"I was sent here to protect you," she added when John stared with his mouth wide open and didn't say anything.

His head spun like crazy. He tried to compose himself, but could not. He struggled to find any words, but they seemed escape him.

 _Well, of course, it's not like I could ever find a normal girl…_

Just as John's heart started beating faster and faster, a bright light pierced his closed eyelids.

 _What?_

With a deep breath in John opened his eyes only to find himself somewhere completely else: Laying on a creaking bed inside a dusty room lined with old wooden furniture, dressed into nothing but a sweaty T-shirt and underwear.

He sighed, realizing it was just a dream. _Wait, was that Cameron?_

He shook the thought off, but then, as he started takin in his surroundings, his eyes laid on _her_ – Cameron, standing in the doorframe, watching him curiously.

John pulled the blanket away and propped himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes in the process. He shot her a short glance but then avoided looking at her.

"You said my name," Cameron stated simply, continuing to study his still sleepy form.

John looked up to meet her gaze. "Did I?" he asked almost disinterestedly, still trying to figure out his blurry dream.

"In your sleep. I thought you were calling for me," Cameron said and turned to walk away. "I made you breakfast," she informed John with a hint of enthusiasm in her voice, and walked towards the kitchen, disappearing from his sight.

John lifted his head and sniffed the smell wafting from the kitchen area. Now that put a smile on his face. A breakfast that didn't smell like burnt pancakes? Or even _a_ breakfast at all? That felt like a holiday.

He got up from the bed and put on his pair of jeans sprawled haphazardly on the floor next to it. He walked to the door and stopped there to rest his left arm against the doorframe and yawn, memories from last night flowing into his consciousness…

* * *

[Flashback]

The silver Chevrolet Blazer slowly rolled over the wooden bridge arching above a narrow, dried up river. The narrow dusty road was lined with large rocks and a single Joshua tree looming over a small, single story house. As the house entered the car's headlights, Cameron leaned slightly forward in her seat to pull out her Glock.

"Stop here," she instructed John who did as she told him.

As Cameron stepped out of the vehicle, she did a quick scan of the area, the chilly desert breeze playing with her hair, the golden moon shining brightly in the starry sky. Everything was quiet save for the distant howling of coyotes. There were no signs of life outside or inside the house, no shady figures creeping in the windows, waiting to shoot John on sight.

When Cameron started marching towards the house John slowly opened the door on his side of the car and withdrew his pistol, leaving the car running, just in case. The blackness behind the windows was eerie, John's mind playing tricks on him by creating various images of disfigured faces pulling the curtains. He dismissed those thoughts and approached Cameron who opened the front door.

"Wait here," she again ordered and made her way into the dark interior.

While she searched the house for any traps, John looked back at the still running SUV, its headlights illuminating the front of the house. It seemed that, after all, no one was hiding behind those rocks, waiting to jump inside the Chevrolet and drive away as John was little afraid could happen, his paranoia being both a curse and a blessing to him. He wondered what feeling safe must be like, as he never had had that luxury.

As John turned his head back towards the interior of the safehouse the sudden appearance of Cameron's face being just inches from his startled him a little.

"The house is safe," she informed him and stepped around him to retrieve their items from the vehicle.

John took a step inside the doorframe and searched the wall next to it for a light switch. As he found the switch and flicked it on, a dusty pendant light blinked into life, throwing yellow light onto the small living room and the antique-looking furniture inside – an old couch with its fabric torn at one spot, two armchairs apparently belonging into the same set as the couch, a rocking chair in the corner with a floor lamp, a tall bookcase pressed against the wall next to it. To the left of the front door, connecting to the living room, was the kitchen with a small table and four seats around it. Directly opposite to where John stood was the door leading to the bedroom, next to it was another door which was closed – most probably the door to the bathroom.

With the bedroom door being open, John could see that there was a single king-sized bed. Good thing that Cameron didn't have to sleep, or else they would have to share. In the back of his mind, however, John actually relished the idea, the memory from last night, when he had held Cameron in his arms, still being vivid. Being angry with her for not telling him about Weaver, he wished that her body pressed against his at least hadn't felt that good. But it did. It felt amazing.

And there she was – strolling past him with a set of bags, giving him a blank glance.

As John walked towards the car he wondered what was going on inside that chip of hers. What was she thinking in that moment when she looked at him in the door frame?

After he had parked the SUV closer to the house and after he and Cameron carried their belongings inside, putting everything in the living room, beside the couch, John set down the last of the travel bags – this one belonged to Sarah, reminding John of her, making him think of how painfully he missed her. _I'll find you, mom..._

"I'm going on a patrol," Cameron announced from the door, having her Remmington 870p shotgun propped upwards.

"Wait," John stopped her, making her whip around and study him curiously. This was one of those typical reactions of hers – she stood there with her head slightly tilted to one side, gazing into his eyes, her face showing a trace of curiosity. John found this adorable, cute, but brushed those thoughts aside.

 _She's a machine. She doesn't have a soul, and she never will._

John, being both physically and mentally exhausted, sighed inwardly. "I should take a look at you first," he motioned with his finger over her bloody tank top and jacket, and leaned over Sarah's bag, opening its zip.

"Right," Cameron obediently dropped her eyes and walked to where John was crouching over the bag. She put her shotgun on the coffee table and sat on the couch, letting her hands rest on her thighs.

While rummaging through Sarah's bag, John found her make up bag and a set of DVDs. _Wait what?_ John had no idea his mother watched movies, ever. _She's human after all,_ he chuckled to himself, pushing back the tear that threatened to form in his eye.

Ared bag with first aid kit caught John's attention. _There it is._ Not only was Sarah human, but she was also always prepared. John grabbed the kit and stood up, looking at Cameron who eyed him innocently – her eyeliner was smudged, a small piece of coltan shone through her right cheek, her hair a bloody mess.

She looked up at him. "You should go to sleep, John. I can repair myself later."

This suddenly made John freeze as he realized something:

She always acted in disregard for herself, she always put him first. _Always._ Was she going to give Weaver her chip for him? Sacrifice herself so he could have a better chance at defeating Skynet?

Despite being angry at her for not telling him about Weaver's true nature, John realized he didn't want their relationship to fall back to the state it was in when he used to see Riley. A pang of guilt shot through him as he remembered the way he used to treat her. He would never do it again, Cameron didn't deserve this. She was there for him. _Only_ for him.

 _So what she didn't tell you. Boo fucking hoo, Connor, man up._

John stood there beside the couch with his right hand holding the red first aid kit, his eyes distant.

"I can tend to my wounds later," Cameron repeated when John didn't respond for exactly 20.00 seconds.

John finally blinked his eyes at Cameron and cocked his head slightly to the left. "Even those on your back?" He raised one eyebrow and put on a barely noticeable smirk – much to Cameron's surprise.

Cameron's lips showed a faint trace of a smile. "No," she shook her head while returning his gaze. "Those would be hard to reach."

"That's what I thought," John smiled and brushed past her knees to sit next to her on the couch.

As John started unpacking the first aid kit, putting its contents on the coffee table, Cameron slipped from her denim jacket – its back being ridden with holes and soaked in her blood, just like her almost translucent white tank top under it.

She let the jacket drop to the floor and pulled her bloodied tank top over her head, letting go of it as well, making it cover the jacket on the floor.

John could not help but stare at her exposed back: her ivory skin glistening in the shine of the pendant light above, the fastening of her blue bra stretching over her slim torso, pieces of shrapnel mixing with blood and sticking out of her skin, some revealing the shiny coltan beneath, some visibly causing horrible burns.

Cameron positioned herself so her back faced John as much as possible and tilted her head in his direction. "Pick the forceps and remove the shrapnel," she instructed him.

John took the shiny forceps and grasped the largest shrapnel in the middle of her back, pulled it out and put it on the wooden coffee table. He winced at the sight of the bloody hole the shrapnel left behind. This was what Cameron went through for him, and he wanted to repay her.

"Continue removing the foreign objects, and then use antiseptic to reduce the spread of infection," she advised him.

"You can get infected?" John asked curiously.

"Yes. The living tissue over my endoskeleton is almost the same as human skin," Cameron explained and turned her head away from John, waiting for him to resume tending to her back.

 _The more you know…_ John mused and continued extracting the metallic objects, using the forceps and sometimes his fingers when he needed better control.

After a minute of silence Cameron decided to angle her head in John's direction again. "You've been worried about me," she said.

John stopped in the middle of removing a bloody shrapnel stuck under her left shoulder blade. "Of course I was…" he almost whispered back.

Cameron let her eyes drop slightly as if she was deep in thought. She wanted to tell him that he shouldn't worry about her, but decided against it. She now understood that John valued her more than she had thought before. "I've been worried about you too," she said finally.

"Well, maybe if you stopped lying to me then you wouldn't have to worry about me," John retorted in the classic Connor manner, half-regretting being so harsh at Cameron, but giving her a frown nevertheless.

Cameron took a long look into his eyes. "I wanted to tell you – in the basement. But then the mercenaries came," she defended herself.

John froze for a moment, studying her face carefully, trying to find any trace of emotion that might indicate whether Cameron was telling him the truth. Her brown puppy eyes looked sincere, shimmering with a glint of... Regret?

John believed her. "So, this is why you stopped me?" he expressed his thoughts aloud again.

"Yes," she nodded. "I wanted to tell you," she repeated pleadingly, making John's heart melt.

He managed to compose himself again. "Well, why didn't you tell me sooner?" He asked her calmly.

"I changed my mind," Cameron replied innocently.

 _Since when do you just change your mind, Cameron?_ "What made you do that?" John probed her with a puzzled face.

Cameron let her eyes slip down for a second before she brought them back to meet John's gaze. "I realized how much you care about me."

This took John by surprise. Perhaps she understood him more than he had thought? He failed to stop his lips from tugging upwards. There he was again, gazing deeply into her gorgeous brown eyes, falling for her beauty, lost in the moment.

"No one wants be lonely," Cameron explained further when John didn't respond. "And – I'm sorry for not telling you sooner," she added apologetically.

John gave her a faint smile. "You wanted to tell me, but got interrupted. It wasn't your fault, so thank you for _wanting_ to tell me."

Cameron looked confused.

"It's the thought that counts," John explained, making Cameron's lips curl into a faint smile. "And you're welcome for explaining, so let's get you fixed now," John smiled and motioned with the forceps towards her back.

Cameron turned her head away, hiding from John the smile that had formed on her face. She was pleased that John didn't seem to be angry with her anymore. She now understood how important communication was to humans, how much they valued an honest apology. _Talking about things helps ease the mind_ , she had told John yesterday, and now she saw that concept in practice.

As John worked on her back, there was something that worried her, however. The diagnostic process she had launched on their way to this house was nearing its end, and so far, the preliminary results scared her…

"Okay, that should be everything, I think," John interrupted Cameron's thought processes.

"Good. Apply the antiseptic now," she instructed.

John curled up a piece of cloth, dipped it into the bottle of antiseptic, and started gently touching Cameron's wounds with it, letting the brown liquid mix with her blood. Once again, he winced at the sight. If Cameron was human, this would be a source of unbearable pain to her. But she wasn't human, and John wondered how she experienced pain.

For better stability, John hesitantly rested his left palm against Cameron's shoulder. Her skin felt incredibly soft, warm to touch. She didn't seem to mind him touching her, and he hoped she didn't pick up the nervousness welling inside him.

 _Why am I even nervous? It's not like there's anything sexual about-_

"It's okay, John, you can touch me," Cameron said softly as if she was reading John's mind, making him blush.

John swallowed hard. _Dammit_ , he felt like she was reading him like an open book.

 _It's okay, John, you can touch me_ , the words echoing in John's skull. What did she mean by that?

After silently applying the antiseptic to all the ugly wounds on Cameron's back, John put the bottle and cloth aside on the coffee table and picked up the sewing kit.

"I should probably stich these together," he informed Cameron.

"Thank you," Cameron said with her head turned towards John, giving him a smile.

"Well, just try not to get in the way of any more shrapnel, okay?" John giggled a little.

"If I hadn't done that, you would be dead," Cameron gave him a worried look.

"Right..." John said and continued stitching one of her wounds. He cringed at the sight of the needle piercing Cameron's skin. He certainly wasn't enjoying doing that, but he felt like he needed to repay her somehow for saving his life. Again.

After several minutes in silence, all the shrapnel wounds on Cameron's back were stitched together.

"Done," John took a breath to inquire her about something. "Hey, I wanted to ask you..."

"Yes?" Cameron quickly replied.

"In the basement, after you... went offline – why did you take so long to reboot?"

Cameron's head slightly twitched.

John watched her worriedly, bracing himself for what she was going to say. _Please be okay, Cameron..._

"It's hard to be certain, but there is an 87.5% chance that I am more damaged than I thought," Cameron finally said, the diagnostic process of her systems still running in the background.

 _No..._ John swallowed hard, his pupils darting from her left eye to the other as she turned to face him better.

"I might go bad again..." She said softly.

John's heart ached from the thought of having to kill Cameron in his defense some day. He placed his hand upon hers. "I'll fix you," he said. "I can't lose you," he added almost in a whisper, gazing deeply into her doe eyes where tears started welling up.

Cameron glanced at John's hand touching hers. To her, it felt pleasant, reassuring her of his words. But she could not stop feeling like a threat to him. She needed to tell him. "But I already went bad. Twice now... It might happen again" She said, holding his gaze.

 _Twice_? "What do you mean, twice?"

"After rebooting, I wanted to kill you again," Cameron explained, retracting her left hand from his as her fingers started twitching again.

Having noticed that, John retracted his hand as well. What if she reverted back to her original Skynet programing right in that moment? She would snap his neck like a twig. Being so close to her, he would have no chance of surviving.

It did not escape Cameron's attention how John suddenly stiffened and started backing away from her slowly. "I stopped it," she said pleadingly, her eyes brimmed with tears, her voice cracking. "I wanted to kill you, but I stopped it," she repeated.

John didn't know what surprised him more – was it learning about Cameron nearly killing him again or was it seeing her cry? He turned away from her slightly, hanging his head low and placing his hands between his thighs.

 _I wanted to kill you._

He shook his head and then turned it towards her again. "How did you- Why didn't you kill me then? When you had the chance?" He said accusingly and looked her dead in the eye.

 _But I stopped it._

"Because I love you," Cameron replied with slightly parted lips, waiting for John's response.

John was taken aback. He didn't know what to say or do. Was she manipulating him? Anger was starting to boil inside him, his short temper taking control of him again. He wished he could control himself, but how could he? Cameron was obviously manipulating him again, exploiting his feelings for her. For what purpose though?

 _I love you John and you love me!_

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about," he put his anger into words.

 _Humans are complicated._ 65.2 seconds ago, John put his hand on Cameron's to express his appreciation of her, but now he was angry again. Did she say something wrong? Was it wrong to be honest as to why she didn't kill him? Was it wrong to say that she loved him? There were still many things she didn't understand.

She loved John – at least according to her knowledge of emotions. It was love in her own 'Cameron' way. She knew there was a 93% probability that humans experience love differently, and even among them there are many variations of this particular feeling. Ultimately, love was the reason why she had managed to stop herself from terminating John – she had let that emotion take 100% control of her decision-making.

John cooled off a little when he saw the hurt on Cameron's face. "Just… Don't say it, Cameron. Okay? Don't throw those words around like they were nothing…"

"Maybe there's something I don't understand," Cameron said innocently.

"Yeah, maybe there is…" John retorted and exhaled loudly. "I'm gonna get some sleep now," he got up to walk around her and stopped at the end of the couch. "I'll take a look on those tomorrow morning," he motioned with his finger over the few gunshot wounds on Cameron's chest.

"Okay," Cameron replied while looking up at him.

After John had disappeared in the bedroom, closing the door behind him, Cameron silently sat on the couch, tears streaming down her cheeks. She wished John had given Weaver her chip. It would solve everything. It would solve her being a threat to him, his safety, as well as the sadness she was feeling.

She stood up from the couch, headed towards her travel bag, took her spare black T-Shirt and slipped into it. Her eyes laid on the purple leather jacket – her favorite. She wondered why she favored it over the other jackets she had. Upon a quick scan of her memory, she found why: It seemed that she associated it with a pleasant memory – a memory of John saying that she looked good in it.

 _Yeah, you look good, nice color._

The memory was as vivid as if it was happening right before her. Cameron was sure she experienced memories differently from humans. They say that time heals old wounds. It was their way of dulling old pain – over time, their brains push the painful memories away. But Cameron lacked such mechanism to protect herself from painful memories. She didn't need to have it. After all, she was a terminator. Her sole function was to terminate humans. She wasn't supposed to have emotions at all. It was Skynet's last-minute experiment to emulate human feelings in her processes to help her blend into human society, particularly to infiltrate John Connor's camp, increasing the chance of his successful termination. Little did Skynet expect for her to end up travelling into the past to protect him, to fall in love with him and to help him destroy her creator.

But not all memories were painful. Some were pleasant, just like the one when John had complimented her new jacket, or the one when he helped fix her left hand.

Cameron put on the purple leather jacket, picked the shotgun and stepped out of the front door to finally go on a patrol.

…

John woke up from his uneasy sleep in the middle of the night upon hearing a strange creaking sound coming from the backyard of the house. _What the hell…_

He quickly grabbed the pistol from under his pillow and got up from the bed as quietly as he could.

The bed, however, betrayed him and screeched a little as John relieved his weight off it. _Dammit!_

Adrenaline started rushing through his veins as he quietly stepped to the window so he could see the source of the strange sound.

Once, again, John was betrayed in his attempt at stealth – this time it was one of the floorboards creaking under his foot. _Shit…_

When he stepped into the rectangle of moonlight thrown on the floor beneath the window he looked out to see… _Cameron?_

She was sitting on an old swing about which John had had no idea that it was there. She was still, the swing creaking only occasionally as she moved slightly to regain balance.

John felt a pang of guilt surging through his heart – Cameron looked so lonely, sad even, her eyes pointed towards the ground. _Poor Cameron…_

Was he projecting his own thoughts on her? Or was she actually sad? He could not help but feel bad for being so harsh on her earlier. This was the way she was – she was herself. With him, she didn't pretend to be something or _someone else_. She wasn't perfect, but it was her – Cameron.

This night, it was the third time she had professed her love for him, and for reasons unknown to him, he got angry. He imagined being in her place in that very moment, and realized how deeply hurt she must have felt.

John realized that she would die for him. She wanted to give Weaver her chip, for him, for _his_ good. When he thought about it, wasn't this love? Her willingness to sacrifice herself for him?

A feeling of guilt stabbed John's heart: Was she suicidal? Did she want to die?

Sarah and Derek would think John was crazy for thinking this way about a _machine,_ but what if? He knew there was much more to her. He, and everyone else, only saw the tip of her iceberg – what lied below the surface was hidden.

He looked at her again – she sat there on the swing, clutching the chains, her feet touching the ground. Again, he thought that she looked _so_ lonely and he couldn't bear to see her like this.

 _I'm such a fucking asshole… I'm sorry Cameron._

John couldn't take it anymore, he had to go and do something, hug her, anything…

Now was the time, he decided – now was the time to unravel the mystery that was Cameron. At least part of it.

…

Cameron looked up at the sky. Examining the stellar map, she quickly determined the date:

 **April 1** **st** **2009 – 3:39**

She remembered doing the same when trying to find out the fate of Myron Stark – the terminator who was sent to kill Governor Mark Wyman in 2009 but ended up in the 1920s.

She remembered talking to Eric, her former friend, about suicide.

 _No, I've never thought about killing myself. Not for a minute. It would destroy my mom for one, and I mean, I can't do that to my family, to the people who love me. Could you?_

Could she? No, she couldn't. She wasn't capable of self-termination. But if she could, was there anyone who would miss her? If she was gone?

 _System analysis complete... 100%_

 _Living tissue integrity: 92%_

 _Endoskeleton integrity: 98%_

 _Chip integrity: 78%_

 _Possible malfunction... Report for replacement._

 _System integrity: 80%_

 _Process priorities:_

 _Mission: 0%, Logic: 0%, Self-preservation: 0%, Emotion: 100%_

 _Warning: Experimental – System malfunction possible_

 _Faulty code present... Conflicting code found..._

 _Line: 304456 – Subject: John Connor_

 _Mission: None_

 _Threat level: Moderate_

 _Emotions caused in total: 20_

 _Accessing list of emotions caused by: John Connor:_

 _Love, affection, pleasure, devotion, compassion, friendship, respect, fondness, empathy, happiness, pride, curiosity, surprise, worry, jealousy, frustration, hurt, sadness, depression, anxiety_

 _Recommended action: Terminate_

 _Mission: None_

 _Report to Depot 37 for further instructions_

Cameron pushed back her system's recommendation to terminate John. Her systems saw him as a 'moderate' threat, most likely due to the killswitch he carried with him. He was also the reason why she felt sad. Termination was a logical solution to this. She was no longer bound by any mission. No mission to protect him, nor did she have a mission to terminate him. She was supposed to report to Depot 37 and await further instructions. Yet, there she was – still by John's side, still protecting him. Was it because she loved him? _Yes._ She did not want to leave him, she wanted to be with him. And despite the fact that he caused her emotional pain and posed a physical threat to her, he could also make her feel happy. And happiness can be just as strong, or even stronger than depression. She would need to do further research on the relationship between those two emotions and their connection to love.

She picked up a creaking sound coming from John's bed in the bedroom. Then, 8.7 seconds later, a sound of a creaking floorboard came. John was not sleeping. He had slept only for approximately 3 hours and 31 minutes. Why didn't he sleep more when his body needed it? _Humans are complicated – even their sleeping mechanisms are._

1 minute and 37 seconds later Cameron picked up footsteps landing on the desert ground.

 _Scanning walking pattern…_

 _96.4% match: John Connor_

 _Threat level: Moderate_

 _Mission: None_

"You're not sleeping," Cameron said flatly with her back towards John who was approaching her.

John made his way to the swing where Cameron sat and took in a deep breath of the chilly night air, looking up at the starry sky above.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, sitting on the second swing seat to her left.

"I'm on a patrol," she replied in her typical manner.

"Really? Since when does being on a patrol involve sitting on a swing?" John tried to joke, flashing Cameron a faint smile.

Cameron looked him in the eye. "It doesn't. I was taking a break," she said without a hint of emotion and got up from her seat.

 _Is she sulking or something?_

"Wait, Cameron, please," John took a hold of her left hand. He took a look up into her deep, brown eyes. "I believe you."

Cameron gave him one of her trademark confused looks.

"I believe you – what you said about… your feelings," he looked at her pleadingly. "And I'm sorry for how I behaved towards you. I'm sorry for everything."

Cameron studied him for a second. Measuring his pulse, she found that John was telling the truth. He had come here to tell her that he believed her, to apologize. Maybe he didn't love her, but at least he appreciated her enough to go out in the middle of the night to talk to her. She showed him a glint of a smile and took the seat to next to him, not letting go of his warm hand. She pointed her eyes towards the ground.

"I gave my emotional subroutines 100% control over my decision-making," she started, returning her eyes at John's face to see his reaction.

 _Emotional subroutines?_ John looked perplexed.

Cameron decided to explain further. "You asked me why I didn't kill you, how I stopped it. This is how," she gave his hand a squeeze.

 _I have sensation, I feel. I wouldn't be worth much if I couldn't feel._

"So you _do_ have emotions?"

"Yes," Cameron answered. "They've always been part of my processes, but over time, they started spreading and taking over."

"Like a virus…" John mused, still a bit confused.

"Yes. Like a virus," Cameron's eyes dropped. "But now those subroutines control all of my processes. I gave them the highest priority."

"What does that mean? What's going to happen with you?" John was worried about Cameron again.

"I don't know. No other machine has ever done it before."

John's eyes slid down to the ground. He had to take a moment to think. He knew she had been changing before – probably the result of her emotions slowly infecting parts her programing. Just like a virus. Was this supposed to happen?

Cameron watched his internal struggle and decided to break the silence. "There's still a chance I might go bad one day, John," she said sadly.

This snapped John from his trance and he brought his eyes back to hers.

She spoke again. "I gave you the switch. If I ever go bad again, don't let me hurt you, John. Please." Her eyes glistened and her voice got weak towards the end of the sentence.

There it was again. The uncertainty of Cameron's programing swinging above them like the mythical _Sword of Damocles_.

"I will fix you, Cameron. Whatever it takes, I will make you good again," John drowned in her eyes and squeezer her hand.

„You should have given Weaver my chip. It would solve everything," Cameron said quietly.

John knew what she meant by that: Giving Weaver Cameron's chip would indeed solve most of his problems. He would no longer need Cameron's protection, as Weaver would provide him with that. Not to mention that his chances of defeating Skynet before Judgement Day would at least double. There would be no risk of Cameron going bad again. But also, there would be _no Cameron_ , and that thought he absolutely dreaded. This time, he didn't get angry.

"Don't say that," John protested almost in a whisper, shaking his head.

 _I need you Cameron…_

Cameron didn't respond and instead studied his green irises.

 _I'll fix you…_

"Everything will be fine," John cupped Cameron's small hand with both of his palms and repeated the phrase they both had used yesterday. "I'll find a way. I promise."

Cameron glanced at John's hands and decided to put her other hand over his, bringing her eyes up to meet his, giving him a faint smile. _Yes, everything will be fine_ , she believed. The determination in John's voice made her believe him. His pulse indicated that he was as honest as he could ever be. They will find a way, together.

The corners of John's mouth tugged upwards as well. Cameron's beauty was radiating in the moonlight.

As they shared this wonderful moment together under the starry sky, John's eyes slipped from Cameron's beautiful brown eyes down to her luscious lips. He felt like he couldn't resist her charm anymore. How many times had this happened already?

 _How can anyone be so beautiful?_

Cameron eyed him longingly.

John leaned closer…

 _John Connor!_ He heard his mother's voice inside his head and he cleared his throat. _Shit._ Wait, was he going to kiss Cameron?

[End of Flashback]

* * *

"I mean, it's not exactly breakfast food, but thanks," John said between mouthfuls of canned chili sauce and boiled rice. He shot Cameron a smile, the sauce smudging his lower lip.

Cameron's ivory skin glistened in the sunshine coming from behind her, through the kitchen window. She looked like an angel.

"It's 11:41, so technically, this meal should be considered a lunch meal," she returned his smile. "And you're welcome."

 _11:41?!_ John's eyes widened. "Why didn't you wake me up?" He asked her, but was in fact glad for her letting him sleep for so long. He felt great.

"Did you dream about me?" Cameron avoided his question with curiosity written on her face.

John almost choked. _Busted._ "Uhh, I don't know."

"How do you not know?" Cameron tilted her head further.

"I don't really remember much," John started blushing. "There was a girl in that dream, and she looked a lot like you, I guess…" His cheeks turned red.

"What were you doing with her?"

This was too much for John. Was Cameron torturing him? Was she doing this on purpose?

"I- I don't know, I was just sitting next to her and then I woke up," John stammered out and quickly shoved the last spoon in his mouth to avoid Cameron's look.

"I see," she took the plate from him with a smirk and put it in the sink.

John leaned back in the chair, folding his hands behind his head. As he looked around the house he felt safe. The house itself wasn't much, but at least it was far away from all those cameras in LA. Then he looked to his left where Cameron started washing the plate, her back turned towards him – and yes, he was there with Cameron who would protect him no matter what. This was the safest place on Earth.

His eyes slipped to inappropriate places: Cameron's perfect figure wrapped in that black T-shirt of hers, tight blue jeans emphasizing her pert backside. He imagined coming from behind her, squeezing that butt of hers…

 _It's okay, John, you can touch me_ – Cameron's words from yesterday echoing in John's head.

He groaned inwardly. _Stop fantasizing about her, man!_

Living with Cameron alone in that house was probably going to be difficult for John – still a teenager with raging hormones.

A sudden ring of John's phone broke the coziness of the moment, making John shoot his head in its direction. Cameron swiveled quickly from the sink towards the noisy device on the table.

They both exchanged a look.

John hesitantly reached his right hand for the phone…

* * *

 _ **Author's Notes: Hope you enjoyed this week's installment to my story!**_

 _ **I feel like we needed to slow down for a bit, focus on the characters for a change. :)**_

 _ **This was a setup chapter for what is going to happen in the next one where we will find out what happened to Sarah.**_

 _ **PS: Since May 2nd, there has been something wrong with FF, as it now doesn't send out alerts on new updates to stories you follow, nor does it update stories in the list - mine still says that it was last updated on April 29th, which is obviously wrong because this chapter was uploaded on May 7th. It's frustrating, but there is nothing I can do really.**_

 _ **UPDATE MAY 17th: I know I promised to post the new chapter last weekend, but, unfortunately, I couldn't make it. I would love to update as soon as possible, but I can't rush this, I just need more time. On top of that, I'm burried neck-deep in job-related work right now and have almost zero free time. My apologies. Please be patient.**_


	9. Come With Me if You Want to Live

**CHAPTER NINE: COME WITH ME IF YOU WANT TO LIVE**

Head of Security James Ellison sat behind the desk in his office. The window that stretched behind his back painted a scene of a typical sunny morning in Downtown Los Angeles. Bright rays shone through the window and landed on the opposite wall where the clock quietly ticked above the door.

Ellison gave the clock a quick glance. _Quarter past nine_.

A second later his eyes rested on the man sitting before him: Agent Auldridge, his former colleague from the FBI.

After having a lengthy conversation, that involved a lot of explaining on Ellison's side, both men sat in silence. Auldridge rubbed his chin, deep in though.

He shook his head and smirked sardonically. "Can this get any crazier?"

"Only God knows," Ellison returned the sad smile and sighed to himself, the events of yesterday's late afternoon being far beyond _crazy_. Auldridge seemed to be buying the former FBI agent's story about receiving an automated emergency message on his phone (this was true), driving to the ZeiraCorp headquarters to coordinate the building's security (this was partialy true) and waiting in the parking lot after seeing the fire on the 22nd floor (this was a lie).

Ellison, of course, was asked why he hadn't called the emergency services, to which he responded that the respective services were alerted by the building's automated security systems (aka John Henry). He effectively hid the truth about being inside the building throughout the entire incident and meeting John Connor. Nor did he speak about the true reason behind his employer's disappearance.

He had no alibi, but at the same time there was nothing and no one to disprove what he had told Auldridge –'someone' had deleted the entire security footage from that late afternoon, no witnesses seeing Ellison, twenty-one people dead, including the unknown perpetrators, one person missing: Catherine Weaver, CEO of the company.

Auldridge studied the notes he had scribbled down in his little notepad while he was interviewing his former colleague. He bit the inside of his left cheek and fixed his eyes upon the man behind the desk. "Well, is there anything else you wanna tell me?"

"No," Ellison shook his head calmly.

Agent Auldridge was onto something, he had the right idea, the connections being obvious: Three days ago, Weaver's house was under attack, her daughter kidnapped by the one and only Sarah Connor. The next day, Sarah Connor got arrested outside a movie theater where she had been meeting Ellison. The day after that, someone shot half of the jailhouse to break her free. And just yesterday, someone crashed a drone into Weaver's office and sent a contingent of hired guns to search the building – only so they could get massacred in the basement. Floating somewhere in the equation was John Connor and his female accomplice – his girlfriend perhaps?

This case was getting complicated by the hour.

A thought of introducing Auldridge into the game crossed Ellison's mind, but in the end, he resolved it would be counter-productive to help Auldridge connect the pieces. At least for now. He had to think this through, figure where he, himself, was standing in all this. Auldridge had always been a reliable, solid man with good reputation among his coworkers. Him and Ellison weren't exactly friends, but they always respected each other. _Maybe_ later, Ellison told himself.

Auldridge measured Ellison with what the Head of Security called 'the investigator's look' – a look that seemed neutral to the untrained eye, but being a former FBI investigator himself, Ellison knew what Auldridge was doing: He was looking for hints on his face, in his eyes, anything that could betray him and indicate that he was lying.

Wordlessly, both men held each other's gaze.

"Alright," Auldridge finally smoothed his suit jacket with his palms as he stood up. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Ellison," he reached out his hand.

The Head of Security stood up as well, returning the gesture. They shook their hands and Auldridge headed towards the door.

Halfway out of the room, he stopped and turned on his heel. "One more thing," he said and took a few steps towards Ellison's desk, reaching into his suit jacket.

He pulled out his business card. "Give me a call should you remember anything else," he put the card on the desk.

Ellison picked up the card and looked at it. "I will."

When Auldridge disappeared behind the door, Ellison returned to his chair, swiveling around to face the scenery behind the window. Studying his former colleague's business card for no apparent reason, he wondered why he was sitting there, in this office, inside this building, covering for the liquid monstrosity, for John Connor, lying to the man he once worked with, and to himself. He had embarked on a strange path – one he apparently knew nothing about. His intentions were clear, however: He fought for the future of humanity. He wondered whether this was the right way of doing so.

An emergency meeting of the Board of Directors took place that morning. Without a doubt, the figureheads of the company were discussing its direction now that Weaver had been missing, her disappearance being a shock to everyone.

Ellison was the only person to know, but what was he supposed to tell everyone?

 _"Mrs. Weaver went on a trip through time. She'll be back in 6 months."_

Ellison's thoughts drifted to the young Connor – he, too, was thrown into these stormy waters without being asked. He could have just run and hide somewhere, take the easy way out. But he stayed and fought like a lion. Ellison remembered the moment from the basement where John had risked his life to drag Cameron into safety, bullets wheezing past his head. He remembered his eyes. There was something in them, they looked just like his mother's – fierce and determined.

* * *

The phone ominously vibrated and shook the table all the way to John's bones, making his heart thump fast like a piston. _Mom!_

He shot Cameron one last glance, sipping her beauty like from a magical potion of strength.

He composed himself and quickly snatched the phone:

 **Private number**

John pressed the green button. "Hello?" He said as neutrally as he could.

The person on the other side of the line spoke through a voice mutator, making their voice sound deep and growly, like a villain from a cheesy action movie.  
"I have information about your mother. Meet me inside Oliver's Café, Beverly Center, 5 o'clock."

Silence took a hold of the small kitchen as the mysterious caller ended the call.

John clutched the phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. He exhaled through his nose audibly and let the hand with the phone drop to his hip. He redirected his gaze to Cameron.

"It's a trap," she stated quickly as her eyes met John's again.

Hadn't John known better, he would have thought Cameron was completely unfazed by the call. But he had known her for two years now, he was able to read the subtle differences in her seemingly stoic face, to notice the shimmer in her beautiful brown irises. She was upset.

"I know," John replied quietly, taking his eyes off her so he could let his thoughts flow, freeing them from the clutches of her pretty face.

"What are we going to do?" Cameron took a step closer, looking up in John's eyes.

 _What would mom do?_ John pondered. She would go to the meeting, armed to her teeth, ready to sow death. And, of course, she would leave John home so he couldn't get harmed. However, this time, she wasn't there to lay a protective hand over her son, to make his trouble go away. This time, she was the one who needed help.

John wished she was somewhere safe. He hoped she had been _rescued_ from the prison, but so far, things were indicating that she was _kidnapped_ to be used as a bait. Then again, if the kidnapper _was_ a machine, why would it take Sarah from the prison instead of waiting for John to make his move and laying a trap for him there?

"It's our only lead," John shook his head. "We have to find out what this guy knows."

"There is a high probability of the caller being a machine," Cameron glanced at the phone and then back into John's eyes. "Meeting with this person would be dangerous."

"I know that, Cam," John exhaled loudly through his nose again, calmly gazing outside the window, thoughts racing through his mind.

 _Cam?_ Cameron looked at John curiously, trying to make out why he had called her that way. According to her database, people use pet names for friends or persons close to them. John didn't seem to realize he had used a pet name for her, nor did he seem to notice the hint of a smile playing across her perfect lips.

"I'll have to think this through," John spoke finally. "And while I do that, why don't we finally do something about those bullets in your chest?" He added as he looked back at Cameron, exchanging a genuine smile with her.

"I'll get the first aid kit," she said after a second of returning the smile and padded into the living room to pick up the instruments John had used last night to patch up her back.

 _Aren't you supposed to be really good at self-repair?_

 _Yes._

 _But sometimes it's nice to have help._

 _Yes._

Was Cameron enjoying being taken care of by John? She obviously didn't protest at his proposal to fix her bullet ridden chest, that was for sure.

John picked up the chair he had been sitting on and followed after her.

"Let's do it here," he gestured to the couch when Cameron turned towards him from the coffee table where she had picked up the first aid kit.

Wordlessly, Cameron sat down on the couch in front of John, who was perched on the chair. She handed him the tools needed for her 'repair'.

Without any warning, she pulled up the black T-shirt over her head, revealing her flawless body.

John gulped at the sight as Cameron stared at him blankly. Or was there curiosity behind her eyes? Was she studying his reaction? One thing was for certain: Cameron wasn't an ordinary teenage girl. She was a terminator, and as such, she showed no signs of shyness or embarrassment for her half-nudity.

 _Well, she definitely has nothing to be ashamed of. STOP. There's nothing sexual about this, you pervert._

By helping Cameron to remove the bullets from the front of her torso, John hoped to take his mind off the fact that his mother was probably being held captive by a sadistic machine, but he forgot one thing: Cameron may be a robot, but she was a gorgeous one, and John's body certainly didn't mind this fact as it started reacting the way any teenage boy's body would have reacted upon seeing a half-naked girl sitting in front of him. He was glad she at least kept her bra on.

 _Oh not again…_ John cursed to himself a little when Cameron suddenly unclipped the fastening on her bra and let it slide down. _Dammit!_ Was she doing this to him on purpose?

She innocently lifted her lovely eyes to meet his. John had a hard time maintaining his gaze on her face and not staring at her perfect breasts.

When he finally lost control and glanced down he saw over dozen bullet holes, some of them already almost fully healed. Just like yesterday night, Cameron's injuries reminded him of what she had to go through to protect him. He had almost lost her yesterday. Two bullets were drilled in her left breast. John was thankful that there was an actual, practical reason for her to take off her bra.

Being drawn back to reality he picked up the forceps, leaned forward and dug it in the first wound he saw –a bloody hole just below Cameron's collar bone. _Poor Cameron_. Suddenly he realized that only inched separated their faces.

Nervously, he brought his eyes to hers. She gave him a lovely, reassuring smile, making it even harder for him to resist her charm, her soft looking lips. John returned her smile and pulled out the bullet, dropping it on the coffee table to his right.

Mirroring the events from last night, he placed a hand upon Cameron's left thigh to gain better balance while leaning forward to tend to another of her wounds.

Cameron picked up the nervousness inside John – his heartbeat was elevated as well as his skin temperature, his cheeks blushing, his hands trembling slightly.

"It's okay John. You can touch me," she said in a soft voice to reassure him, repeating what she had told him yesterday. She understood why he felt that way about her. Her body resembled an attractive and healthy human female – a perfect candidate for producing offspring - _Having sex_ , she corrected herself, striving to sound more like a human and less like a _freak, weirdo, kook, oddball, crackpot, strange duck, queer potato, nut._ John was a teenager, he had biological urges, ones he could probably not control. She wondered how that must feel. Then she remembered she sometimes experienced involuntary reactions as well. Was this Skynet's way of making her the perfect infiltrator, or was this the results of her emotion simulators taking over her systems? What was going to happen to her?

John's gaze met hers once again. _Dammit, at least stop smiling like that, Cameron._ She must had thought she was making it easier for him, but she wasn't. In that moment, he desperately wanted her to be Uncle Bob. What was his future-self thinking sending a hot female terminator to protect him?

"Heh…" he chuckled nervously. "Anyway, what's up with the eyeliner?" He tried to unburden his mind with something light-hearted as he returned to tending to her wounds.

"I don't understand," Cameron gazed at him curiously – a cute trait of hers.

"I mean, I know you needed to change the way you look, but still… Why do you apply it like that now?" John's eyes rested on hers again. He studied the black eyeliner circling her eyes, thinking it made her look _super cute_.

"I want to look tight," she lifted her chin up proudly with a smug of a smile.

"Tight…" John laughed while pulling out another bullet. "You say that a lot, don't you?"

"Yes."

 _Acessing word database..._

 _Word: Tight_

 _Used so far: 12x_

"Where'd you hear that?" John showed Cameron an amused face.

"At school," she replied innocently.

"Yeah, of course…" John grinned like she hadn't seen him do for a long time. His tactic to distract himself from thoughts about Sarah apparently working well.

Cameron noticed the change in John since yesterday night, the power of words being even more effective on humans than she had thought. A warm feeling flowed through her data processes upon seeing John smiling at her. She decided to talk to him as much as possible, no more hiding the truth, no more lies.

* * *

Sarah Connor was woken up by a familiar voice.

"On your feet, soldier!"

 _Kyle?_

She opened her eyes to see the same grey ceiling, her vision blurry again, her head spinning as if she was put on a rollercoaster. She felt the soft mattress on her back. She clenched her jaw and gathered all her strength to prop herself on her elbows.

Taking a look around she found herself in the same, mysterious room.

"I said, on your feet, soldier!"

There it was again – the familiar voice Sarah would never forget. She snapped her head to her left. _Kyle…_

"You can do it. I know you can, Sarah," he said in a warm voice, his eyes kind, his face as handsome as she remembered.

"You're not real," Sarah scoffed, shaking her dizzy head.

Kyle stepped closer and rested his hand on hers. "I'm not. But you are. All this," Kyle gestured vaguely with his hands around the room, "is real. John is real, and the danger he's in is real too. You have to get out, Sarah."

 _John!_

With a stern face Sarah rolled off the gurney and slammed on the floor hardly, hissing at the pain. She tried to rise to her feet but her impaired sense of balance betrayed her again and she fell on her backside. _Have… to get…to John…_

She crawled to the metal door and started slamming it with her fist.

"Hey!"

Nothing…

"Let me out!"

Exhausted from the effort, she fell to the floor, her face touching the cold concrete.

A sudden thought appeared in her mind. She lifted her head again to study the door for a lock she could pick – there was nothing. The door consisted only of bare metal panels riveted together, the lock being on the other side.

She slammed her fist into the cold metal again, letting out an angry roar.

Her face fell to the floor again and her eyes rested on Kyle, who stood beside her, looking down on her.

Sarah closed her eyes so she didn't have to look at him – the man she loved with all her heart, the man she lost to a _machine_.

 _You're not real._

Truth was, Sarah didn't know what was real anymore: Kyle, this room, her escape from the prison, her dreams, her hallucinations. What was real and what was her imagination? She started crying hopelessly. _I'm sorry John…_

* * *

John sat on the living room floor, sunlight weighing on his back, making him start to sweat. He didn't really notice it, as he was fully concentrating on cleaning the assortment of weapons sprawled on the floor in front of him – that and he was also swimming in an ocean of thoughts about his mother.

When he finally felt that his mouth had gone dry just like the desert outside the house, he got up to his feet and strolled to the kitchen. He stood at the sink, pouring himself a glass of tap water.

He lifted the glass to his mouth and took a sip. He looked outside the window, the desert spreading in the distance, the Joshua trees standing still. Cameron was outside somewhere, doing her usual thing – patrolling the perimeter, keeping him safe. John felt his T-shirt sticking to his back with sweat and wondered if Cameron could sweat too. _I feel heat,_ she had told him once.

It all seemed almost idyllic: The blissful solitude of the desert safehouse, its relative safety. It was just John and Cameron occupying the house. If it wasn't for the fact that Sarah was missing, John would have actually _enjoyed_ living there, it was perfect.

John swigged the rest of the water and sat it the glass on the counter. As his mind returned to his mother, he opened the fridge in search of anything edible. He didn't know what exactly he expected to find there, since he and Cameron hadn't stopped for any food yesterday. His concerns became true as he found the inside of the fridge to be completely empty.

He found it silly that such a mundane thing as shopping for groceries reminded him of the meeting with the strange caller, but it was true; they needed to go out and buy some food anyway, so why not go the extra mile and meet with this mysterious guy who, in all probability, was a machine eager to snap his neck?

Except John had no intention of meeting this person. Cameron was right, of course. It was too dangerous. He formed a risky plan he desperately wanted to tell her about.

Hastily, he stepped out of the front door, into the desert sun, feeling its heat touching his skin.

He swiveled his head first to his left, then to his right. No signs of Cameron. He walked around the corner to look for her. She wasn't there either, so John went further along the wall to continue his search for Cameron in the backyard.

No sign of life in the backyard. _Where is she?_

"Cameron!" He called to his only companion.

Only silence called back to him. Nothing.

A pang of worry started shot its way into John's mind and he started panicking a little. He quickly marched to the other corner of the house. _I can't lose you, Cameron..._

"Gahhh!"

There she was, her face only inches from his, her dark eyes studying him intently. _Again._

"Yes?"

John frowned, growing irritated.

"Don't do that," he exhaled annoyedly but instead of continuing to take his anger out on her like he usually did, he decided to calm himself. Her cute and puzzled face certainly helping him do exactly that.

"Come on, we're going to the city," John said.

"You want meet with the person who called," Cameron observed.

"Well, yes and no," John smirked mysteriously.

"I don't understand."

"I'll explain in the car, get your stuff, Cam" John smiled and jogged off back into the house.

Cameron watched him run off, conflicting feelings of worry and happiness flowing through her CPU. John had called her _Cam_ again, but what was he planning to do? Was he going to get himself in danger again? She wouldn't let anything happen to him.

* * *

The engine of the silver SUV roared along the length of the lonely desert road.

Seeing a gas station and the glowing low-fuel indicator John decided to pull up.

When he stopped the car next to the pump he turned his head towards Cameron who sat beside him on the passenger seat. "You need anything?"

"I'll go," she replied and opened the door to step out.

"Okay," John nodded.

The gas station was empty, only the hot glowing sun in the sky and the dry desert keeping it company. Next to the store was parked a red truck with dusty windshield. John didn't pay any attention to it.

As Cameron finished filling the tank with gas and started marching towards the store, John could not help but to turn his head in her direction and stare at her flawless backside, her hair gently flowing in the breeze. _Pervert_ , John slapped himself mentally.

When the person of his interest disappeared in the store, he wondered why he was so damn short-tempered, replaying the memory from yesterday when he had gotten mad at Cameron for telling him she loved him. Again, he could not help but feel like an asshole. He shook his head and sighed. _God dammit, Connor._ How could he ever apologize to Cameron for how he used to treat her, for how he had treated her just yesterday? He remembered the tears welling in her wonderful eyes and wondered: _If she can cry, can she love, too?_ Either way, she didn't deserve to be yelled at.

John seemed to finally realize there was no use in behaving like a brat – that lead nowhere. If he had listened to his mother, or Cameron, and hadn't acted like a typical, spoilt teenager, Riley wouldn't be dead. There it was again: anger flowing through his veins. However, this time, he was angry only at himself. He decided to start channeling his anger somewhere useful, turn his weakness into a strength. _I'm going to find you mom, I promise,_ he thought as he clenched his jaw.

The passenger door opened as Cameron climbed back to her seat.

"I brought you something," she handed him a bag of chips and a bottle of soda.

Being both hungry and thirsty, he smiled. "Hey, thanks," he took the items from her. "Did you get anything for yourself?" He asked her as he opened the bag of chips and spilled some in his mouth hungrily.

"No," she replied simply and gave him an appreciative smile.

"Here," John said and offered her the bag.

Cameron slid her slender fingers into the bag and took a chip. "Thank you," she said with a pretty smile and put the chip in her mouth.

 _What model are you? Are you new? You seem... different._

 _I am._

John put the car in gear and drove off the gas station. As he rolled back onto the hot tarmac road Cameron stretched her hand to turn on the radio. John frowned and smiled a bit at the same time, intrigued by his terminator protector's unexpected behavior. _She really_ _ **is**_ _different_ , he thought as the tones of _The Killers' Mr. Brightside_ filled the interior of the Chevrolet.

Being too busy studying Cameron's soft looking hair, John never noticed the red Ford F350 1999 pickup truck that had slowly peeked from behind the gas station store's corner and started following them.

After a minute of silent listening to the music, Cameron spoke. "This song is about jealousy," she observed.

John chuckled quietly. "Yeah, and?" He gave her a long glance.

Looking ahead, Cameron said, "I was jealous once." Her eyes dropped a bit.

 _Wait, is she talking about Riley?_ John dreaded them talking about the girl that had tried to steal his heart. What did Cameron mean? Back when John used to see Riley, he had suspected several times that Cameron was jealous, but he dismissed the thoughts, thinking it was just his imagination. _She's just a machine_ , he used to remind himself. Oh, how wrong he was...

 _Man up, Connor._ He winced a little, but swallowed his pride and risked total embarrassment for being wrong about judging Cameron's feelings when he said, "Are you talking about Riley?" He swallowed nervously.

"I am..." Cameron replied musingly, keeping her eyes still on the road before them.

John caught a glint of sadness in her look and felt sorry for her. He desperately wanted to comfort her somehow.

 _Here goes nothing,_ he thought as he reached out his right hand and landed it on her slender one that sat on her lap. "Hey..."

This caught Cameron's attention as she steered her gaze into John's eyes.

"I was an idiot," he shook his head ever so slightly. "I'm sorry, Cam" he added. There it was. John Connor, the future leader of the resistance against machines, apologizing to one of them for hurting its supposed feelings by seeing a human girl. Crazy world.

Except Cameron wasn't the enemy, and she wasn't _just a machine_. A sudden realization hit John: Back then, when he used to date Riley, whenever he was with Cameron, he had wished he _wanted_ to be with Riley _,_ and when he was with Riley, he wished to be with Cameron, he longed for her presence, for her beauty. He had wished for her to be _human,_ he wished to be able to love her without anyone looking at him with disgust for loving _'metal'_. But now, John finally realized Cameron didn't _need_ to be human, and he didn't even want her to be a normal girl anymore. He liked her just the way she was. She was herself – a sweet, wonderfully complicated girl who happened to be made of coltan.

 _I was an idiot. I'm sorry, Cam –_ John's words from seconds ago replayed several times in Cameron's memory.

She gave him a loving and honest smile, lacing her fingers with his. "I know, John."

John's heart twisted in his chest and missed a beat, his cheeks hurt from the broad smile that had formed on his face. _You're gorgeous_ , he thought – this time without any remorse.

 _Wait!_ He frowned in mock anger. "You know that I'm sorry, or that I'm an idiot?"

Cameron bore her eyes into his. "Both," her lips played in a playful smile and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

 _Wow._ Did Cameron just tease him? John laughed like he hadn't laughed in _long_ time as Cameron giggled sweetly with him. He couldn't take his eyes off the genuine smile on her beautiful face.

* * *

The Beverly Center mall was crowded with strangers, some alone, some in groups, but each going their own way, each wanting to fulfill the purpose of their visit.

The tall, slender man in a police uniform intended to fulfill the purpose of his visit as well. His dark-blue uniform was garnished with the typical LA Police Department badge, his long-sleeved shirt tucked under the belt that held a Beretta 92FS.

The police officer was handsome, his eyes adorned with blue irises, a crown of slick brown hair combed back sitting on the top of his head, his cheekbones and jawline chiseled into a face of determination. His unrelenting stare searched the faces of the shoppers around him.

With his hand, he stopped a lone woman dressed in a striped dress and rather large sunglasses. As the woman lifted her head to give him her attention he flashed her the badge. "Officer Tanner," the lawman introduced himself with a forced smile. "I'm looking for this young man," he said as he pulled out a photograph of a teenage boy.

"No, sorry," the woman shook her head and started marching towards her original goal.

"Have you seen this boy?" The policeman held out the photograph to a group of strangers, and they all shook their heads as they didn't even stop to take a proper look.

"I'm looking for this boy." Another woman shook her head and mouthed "Sorry".

In a similar fashion, the tall man continued questioning every person that stumbled in his way.

He showed the photograph to a scared-looking teenager with acne-covered face and dark curly hair. "Have you seen this young man? His name is John Connor."

* * *

John looked around the mall, studying the skylight letting in some natural sunrays, the bright light of the ceiling-mounted LEDs reflecting off the shiny floor. He and Cameron stood on the second floor of the mall where various clothing outlets were located. Crowds of people flowed through the wide corridors, into and out of shops and up and down the escalators.

Cameron, as always, was vigilant, mechanically examining each and every face her sparkly eyes laid upon. She stood so close to John that her arm was pressed against his, exchanging the pleasant warmth. She was worried for him. _I can't let anything happen to him,_ she repeated to herself again.

For a brief moment, she wondered why she cared so much about him now that she was bound by no mission to protect him. She had no directive to stay with him anymore, her mission programing was empty, thus it seemed like she was acting upon her _feelings_ toward him and his feelings toward her: He obviously valued her as a friend, cared about her, he spent his time to take care of her, and this alone made her feel _good_ – a feeling she wanted to last forever. She then realized that she wanted to stay with John so she can feel appreciated, feel like her existence had a purpose. John provided her with all those things. Was it selfish of her to be with him because of that? _No_ , she surmised – as long as she protected him, as long as she tried to make him feel good as well, it was not selfish.

 _Love is a circle_ , she thought, surprising herself for coming up with such a human and non-mechanical analogy. _As long as two people feel the same towards each other, the circle is complete._ _If one of the two starts feeling different, not returning the love, the circle is broken._ This made her wonder whether John loved her back, whether _their_ circle was complete, and whether her love was in fact even close to how humans experience this particular feeling.

"Earth to Cameron," John's waving hand came into Cameron's vision.

She shot her eyes in his direction. "What?"

John chuckled a bit as he stood in front of her. "You looked like you zoomed out for a bit, are you okay?"

"Yes," she replied simply. "Don't worry," she added with a charming smile.

John's heart made a funny little turn again as he thought he would get used to the smiling Cameron, but no. _That will never get old_ , he thought, smiling back. "Okay, let's go," he said as he set his feet in motion towards the balcony that overlooked the two floors below – and most importantly, it overlooked the ground floor where Oliver's Café, the supposed meeting point, was.

Cameron quickly caught up to John, once again sticking as close to him as possible. He didn't seem to mind her close presence, her touch.

"Anyone seem off?" John said as they reached the handrail, nodding towards Oliver's Café below them.

It was difficult for Cameron to pinpoint individual people in the moving crowd on the ground floor. As she zoomed in, her vision landed on a blonde mother who carried her baby in a harness.

As Cameron's analytic software told her, there was a very slim probability of the woman being a terminator. She moved on, this time to an elderly man with thinning white hair.

Again, very little threat.

The next person Cameron analyzed was a teenager, around John's age. A crown of dark, wavy locks sat on the top of his head and face was covered with acne. The boy was stopped by a police officer who showed him a photograph. Cameron zoomed in on the photo. It was a picture of John, her and Sarah, the one taken by in the bank in 1999, the same one used by the news.

Cameron's eyes widened in horror – another of her involuntary reactions. If she was human and had a heart, it would probably burst out of her petite chest, as she studied the police officer more closely she noticed there was something off about him: his movements were too mechanical to be human, too calculated, his eyes cold and soulless. The man was a _terminator._

John could see the shock written all over Cameron's unmoving face. "What's going on? Do you see someone?" He asked her quickly in a panicked voice as he put his hands on her shoulders to get her attention.

It quickly occurred to him to look down to the source of Cameron's consternation. Immediately, he spotted a uniformed man, standing in the middle of the crowd, whose head shot up as if he had eyes on the top of his brown-hair covered head. _Shit!_ John thought.

"We have to go," Cameron said in a stern voice as she grabbed John's arm and started dragging him away.

John knew this was no time for questions, no screwing around. _Exits. Know your exits!_ His mother's words came to his mind as his heartbeat skyrocketed and he and Cameron started running away from the balcony.

Panic clogged John's mind as they made their way through the crowd, carelessly pushing people aside and earning a number of angry looks. _Move away, for fuck's sake!_

It was certain the police officer had seen them, and from the way he had looked at them, he was most probably after them. _Damn,_ John thought. _Should have played it cool,_ he cursed, but shortly after, he realized it was Cameron who started dragging him away so abruptly. Was that guy a terminator? John tried to remember the police officer. _Slim, tall, brown hair combed back_ , he looked very familiar. _Bullshit,_ John thought. _Can't be_ , he dismissed his thoughts as just his imagination, and rather focused on their escape.

He knew that to outrun the man, they had to make their way to the other side of the mall. Obviously, they could not run in the police officer's direction. John remembered there was an emergency exit on the ground floor, at the end of the mall, so that was where they headed.

John was so caught up in trying to survive that he didn't even notice his raging heartbeat, his wheezing breath.

Cameron, running alongside him, noticed this, of course, and feared for her companion's life. What if the machine caught up to them? What if this was a trap and another one was waiting for them at the other end of the mall? A single shot to the heart would end John's life, she knew.

After ploughing through the hordes of shoppers on the escalators, John narrowly avoided a middle-aged man in a wheelchair and sharply swerved to his left to barge in the red emergency exit door. Cameron followed a step behind him.

At the end of the narrow corridor laid hope – the outside world, the intertwined streets of LA, concrete jungle, a much easier environment for a desperate escape.

Finally, the door at the other end of the corridor was just mere inches away when John noticed something odd...

 _Where's Cameron?_

He quickly spun around to look for her, his heart thumping in his throat, sweat flowing through his eyebrows, stinging his eyes. _Cameron!_

There she stood, few feet behind him, unmoving like a statue, her eyes showing an absent look, her head twitching ever so slightly.

 _Conflicting code..._

 _Possible chip damage..._

 _Report for maintenance..._

 _Emergency shutdown in..._

 _9..._

 _8..._

 _Shutdown override..._

Just when John wanted to run towards her, he could see the life sparkling back into her eyes as her head jerked in his direction.

 _Oh thank God_ , he thought, but before he could ask her his typical ' _Are you okay?',_ his attention got interrupted by the door behind him flinging open, the policeman from before standing in it.

However, this was no ordinary police man.

John was faced with horror he thought never possible: The nightmare from his restless nights, the monster that nearly drove him crazy from fear, here, standing right in front him in flesh – or shall we say, in _liquid metal –_ the terminator that hunted him and his mother when he was just a child, looking exactly the same, as if they never killed it.

How the hell was this possible? They had drowned the damn thing in molten metal!

"John Connor?" The machine said robotically, its soulless blue eyes piercing John's very soul.

A loud roar of a truck engine echoed through the walls of the narrow alley outside, behind the terminator, as fractions of a second passed. Time had slowed down almost to a halt for John.

He had two options: either he started running away, in which case he would undoubtedly end up with a vicious metal spike piercing his heart from the back, or he channeled all the anger built up inside him, all his strength into one, powerful shove. _Now or never..._

"Fuck you!" John spat in the machine's face and sprang his body into the strongest push he had ever done, every muscle in his body tensing in his last trial at survival.

Being only a mere human, unsurprisingly, John's exhausting thrust didn't do much harm to the fake policeman before him. However, it was just enough to catch the machine by surprise, making it stumble one tiny step back into the alley.

 _WHAM! -_ The liquid body of the terminator was met with the powerful force of a red truck, flying somewhere out of John's view.

As the truck reversed so its door faced the corridor where John and Cameron stood in shock, John recognized it – it was the same truck from the gas station: the dusty windshield, the slightly rusty door, it all matched.

The door of the truck swung open.

"Come with me if you wanna live," the man inside said in a tone of urgency.

Just a second ago, John had thought his day could not get any crazier, but as it turned out, his day had just gotten _ten_ times crazier as he stared in the familiar face before him – he stared at _himself._

It was like looking in the mirror – only this mirror was different: it showed what you would look like from 10 or 15 years from now.

There was no doubt: Sitting behind the wheel of the truck was _John Connor –_ a man in his early thirties, a man with stern determination in his green eyes, the charisma of strength, dominance, emanating from his face. Long black hair fell around his sharp cheekbones, a dark-red bandana pulled up his forehead to keep his sweaty locks from his eyes. This John was _different._ Not only did he look stronger physically, but also emotionally. Not only was his face scarred, but his soul looked scarred as well.

Despite being shaken to his very bones, _Present_ John didn't hesitate for a moment, survival always being the first thing on his mind. He quickly climbed on the passenger seat, being followed by Cameron who wordlessly opened the door to the backseat and sat down.

Although John didn't have any time to look at her, in a glance he caught that she was stunned as well.

"Are you okay?" John turned towards the backseat, ignoring Future John beside him.

Before Cameron could answer, fear struck the hearts/power cell of all the passengers in the truck again as a loud screech came from the front of the vehicle.

The liquid monster was clawing its way onto the truck's hood, preparing its right hand to pierce its target.

With a loud bump the terminator's face met the dusty windshield as Future John slammed the accelerator pedal, throwing the truck in blazing-fast reverse.

"The shotgun! It's in the glovebox!" Future John yelled while steering the truck so it didn't hit any of the dumpsters in the alley.

As the machine on the hood regained its balance its head exploded in two silver halves as it met the powerful blast from the shotgun clutched in Present-John's hands, pieces of glass from the windshield shattering in the wind.

 _CRACK!_ \- Another shot separated the terminator's left arm at the shoulder from the rest of its body.

With an abrupt swerve the truck reversed on the road, narrowly missing a silver sedan, car horns flooding the street.

As the truck violently turned by 90 degrees, its momentum, and the fact that the arm with which machine held on to the truck was separated from its body, were enough to send the liquid machine crashing in the front of an incoming truck.

The left arm of the terminator was still clinging on to the hood of the vehicle, but not for much longer as John unloaded exactly three blasts from the shotgun into it, making it flutter away.

The truck sped away from the scene as fast as it could go, the sounds of its roaring engine and the wind blowing through the glassless front window accompanying the three occupants of the vehicle.

Present John's mind raced through so many questions that his head started spinning, his heartbeat elevated to almost unbearable heights. He glanced at the man, his future self, behind the driver's wheel. So many things sprang to his mind: _What future do you come from? Why did you come? What's your story?_ But one question was more pressing than the others:

"W-what the hell?! We fucking killed that thing!" Present John yelled, pointing in the direction where the horrific liquid monster lied somewhere under the wheels of the heavy-looking truck.

"It's not the same one," Future John spoke for the first time in his normal voice. It wasn't that much different from the voice of his teenage counterpart, only a bit deeper.

"How do you know?" Present John asked.

"I don't, I just... assume," Future John glanced at his younger self, briefly studying his face. Compared to him, the younger John looked cleaner, not scarred by the war that raged in the future he came from.

Present John managed to calm himself a little. "Why does it look the same then?"

"I don't know, maybe it's like their default skin, or something," Future John slowed the truck to match the speed limit and put on a distant look.

Although Present John could pursue the matter further, it would be for no use, and he turned around instead. "Cam, are you okay?" He asked Cameron worriedly.

She was gazing at the floor, her thought processes being a mystery. She brought her eyes to meet John's. "Yes, John," she replied calmly.

Present John reached out his arm and rested it on Cameron's shoulder. "Don't worry, we're safe now," he said softly, searching her eyes.

He didn't know why he said that, perhaps because he still couldn't think straight and perhaps because Cameron looked like she needed comforting – _Comforting a terminator? Come on, John!_

He caressed her soft cheek and could not miss the glance Future John gave him and his hand that was touching Cameron.

Cameron gave Present John one of her beautiful smiles, appreciating his care. "I know, John." His fingers felt warm on her cheek, it felt beautiful.

Deep inside, however, she was worried. What happened to her in the mall? Why did she stop all of a sudden and couldn't move?

Her eyes dropped back to the floor of the truck as Present John turned on his seat to face forward again.

He gazed at his older self, takin in his appearance. Unable to contain his curiosity any longer he cleared his throat.

"So, what's your story – _John?_ "

It was so weird. Present John could not put a finger on how he felt about his older counterpart. Is this how twins feel towards each other? He still could not wrap his head around the fact that he was sitting in a truck with his future self, who came from some mysterious future for some unknown reason, under completely unclear circumstances. What happened? He had to know.

"Well, it's a long one…" Future John said cryptically, not taking his eyes off the road as he steered the truck into a car park. "We need a new car," he clarified throwing a quick glance at his younger self.

Present John wanted to tell him that _they had time_ , but decided against it as Sarah, his mother, resurface in his mind. She would kill him knowing he had risked so much and nearly got killed and yet accomplished nothing. The situation was grim. The assumption was that Sarah was held by this liquid machine who happened to look the same as the one from 1995. How come Future John has not asked about Sarah yet? Had he been watching Present John and Cameron?

"You can start by telling us how long have you been here," Present John said.

"Four days now," Future John replied as he parked the truck next to a black Chevrolet Avalanche, choosing a pickup truck again as his new vehicle.

"When you came back in time, did you arrive at the beach?" Present John probed with curiosity etched to his face, asking whether Future John had been the one whose time bubble appeared on the news three days ago.

"No, that must had been the liquid terminator," Future John said and killed the engine. "I wanted to break mom out of prison, but I was too late," he added with a ping of regret in his voice, shaking his head and staring at the bland carpark wall in front of the truck.

"You were there too?" Present John steered his quizzical frown at his future self.

"No, it all happened before I even got there," Future John shot his 'twin' a brief look and got out of the red Ford.

Present John and Cameron followed his example and stepped out of the vehicle as well, closing the doors behind them and walking around the truck to its rear where they were met by Future John.

Cameron looked at him, studying his face, his body. He looked different from the General she used to know from _her_ future. He was younger, his face was more vivid and did not bear the massive scar that had run below and above General Connor's left eye. This was not _her_ Future John.

"There is an 83% chance that Sarah is held hostage by the T-1000," she announced to both Johns.

It could not escape Present John's attention how Future John looked at Cameron, measuring her from head to toe. Truth was, there was a lot to look at as her perfect body was tightly wrapped in that simple black T-shirt, her long legs wearing the slim jeans that emphasized her tight-looking backside, her dark hair flowing around her cute face.

"We'll get her back," the younger John said, hiding his sudden jealousy as best as he could.

"You're damn right we will," Future John nodded in agreement.

A green sedan driving towards the exit of the carpark interrupted the trio.

"We should go," Present John said looking first at Cameron and then at his doppelganger.

Future John took a deep breath in. "I need to take care of a few things first, I'll call you tomorrow," he turned around to walk to the driver's side of the black Chevrolet pickup truck behind him. After one step, he stopped and angled his body back towards Present John and Cameron.

"Yeah, I still remember my old number," he smirked at the confused younger John and strolled to the driver's side of 'his' new vehicle.

Present John felt like Future John was reading his mind. The idea of having someone whose brain worked in the same way seemed bizarre and alien to him. Briefly, he wondered how much of a different person his older counterpart was.

"Come on, Cam, let's get a new ride."

* * *

John didn't get too attached to the old Chevrolet Blazer. Just like any vehicle in the Connor family, it was a placeholder. Plus, the interior of this new car – a white Range Rover – at least did not smell like an ashtray. As a bonus, it was also driven by the most beautiful cyborg in the Universe.

Amber rays played across Cameron's face as she drove the SUV into the sunset.

John smiled at her from the passenger seat and he leant his head on the headrest.

He knew the upcoming days would probably be the most difficult days of his life. His mother, Future John, the T-1000 liquid terminator, Weaver… it all created a volatile mix he, however, did not want to think about for the moment.

He closed his eyes, drifting into sleep.

* * *

 _ **Author's Notes: To those who have not given up on me: Thank you for reading the story! I am very sorry it took me so long to update. My daily schedule just didn't really allow me to focus on writing. Rushing things and writing without inspiration would only hurt this chapter, so I waited until I had more free time on my hands.**_

 _ **Good news is that I am back and excited to continue!**_

 _ **And don't worry, I am not going to abandon the story, guys! I hate when people do that. :)  
As I have told some of you, I have the whole story planned ahead. I just need to write the individual chapters, the individual scenes – connect all the little pieces.**_

 _ **As always, thank you very much for taking a minute of your time to review.**_

 _ **Stay tuned for the next chapter where we will reveal some more about this enigmatic Future John!**_

 _ **UPDATE JUNE 3rd: After gathering enough ideas for scenes, dialogue and the overall structure, I just started working on Chapter 10: Reveries and Revelations. I'm taking my time because I want to make the chapter as best as possible. I intend to put lot of work into the scenes, the dialogue and the little descriptions of the characters' inner worlds you seem to like. For that reason, I can't really promise you any firm date of release, but I can promise you this: You will like the next installment to mystory. ;)**_


	10. Reveries

**CHAPTER TEN: REVERIES**

„ _An armed robbery took place today in North Hollywood. The police arrested and identified the robber as Rodrigo Juarez, a convict who had escaped from the Los Angeles County Jail two days ago. The officials still advise citizens to stay clear of the streets as much as possible, as the threat of escaped criminals still resumes."_

Cameron was monitoring the radio for any information useful to her and John's respective goals. It was a convenient way of spending her time efficiently while driving the stolen white Range Rover – after all, inside her coltan skull operated _the most sophisticated learning computer on Earth_ , as John once had said. Hundreds of processes ran inside her CPU: listening to the news on the radio, driving the SUV, analyzing and predicting the velocities and behavior of the surrounding cars, observing the traffic lights, monitoring John's vital signs, thinking about all the events from that day, about the sudden and unexpected appearance of Future John, about the T-1000 who had kidnapped Sarah from the prison…

As the Range Rover _roved_ through the streets of Los Angeles and lights from the passing street lamps illuminated Cameron's face like short-lived fireflies, she looked over at John who was slouched in the passenger seat, sleeping. She had nearly lost him. Perhaps she should have prevented him from going to that mall? No, that would only drive him away from her again, she resolved. This John was getting close to the Future John she had known from _her_ future – when he made up his mind, there was none stopping him, and ultimately, this may had been the reason why Skynet was losing the war in the future: General Connor's moves were risky, unpredictable. Sure, the wins of the Resistance often involved a nonnegligible amount of luck, but it was something Skynet could never account for.

In the corner of her mind, Cameron was actually proud of her _present_ John. The way he had pushed the T-1000 under the incoming truck was brave, unpredictable, lucky, and even suicidal. This lead her to the glitch that had occurred just seconds before that. She had failed John as a protector, again. She _wanted_ to think that it would had been better if John had given her life away in exchange for the alliance with Weaver, but something had changed. She didn't want to stop existing. She was glad John chose her over Weaver. Existence seemed so much better than nonexistence. She wanted to _live_ for John. She wanted to protect him, make him happy, give him advise, be with him.

John stirred in his sleep slightly as something unintelligible escaped his mouth, interrupting Cameron's train of thoughts. She looked at him once again and smiled slightly to herself. Watching John calmly sleeping felt good.

She steered the car into a parking lot of a completely ordinary and not-at-all-special supermarket. The sudden stop must had awoken John as his eyes fluttered open and he moaned quietly.

Hadn't John's mind been so burdened with the recent events and the fact he had to deal with yet another T-1000 (who also happened to look the same as the previous one), he would had felt great: Waking up in a luxury car next to a beautiful girl sure was great.

"What's going on?" he asked, blinking around himself.

"You're hungry," Cameron replied simply, observing John's still half-awake, half-sleeping form, the corners of her lips tugging upwards barely noticeably.

Knowing her all too well, John, of course, noticed this and smiled back, reading her lovely face. "Yeah," he said, turning his head towards the brightly illuminated door of the supermarket, not being surprised at all by how Cameron knew exactly what he needed. He enjoyed the way she cared about him. "So, when was the last time I ate?" He asked her jokingly, wanting to hear one of her exact answers.

He still did not want to think about anything important, as he felt he would need more than just a quick nap in order to be able to think straight again.

"Your last meal was ten hours and four minutes ago. You should feel moderately hungry now."

"Yep. That's _exactly_ how I feel – moderately hungry," John chuckled at Cameron's technical description of his hunger, though he had to admit, she was right: He did feel pretty hungry, but not like he was starving. _Moderately hungry, sounds about right..._

* * *

While browsing through the shiny aisles of the supermarket, John's eyes remained glued to Cameron's backside almost all the time he had walked behind her.

As she stopped the cart to reach for a bag of cereals, John caught himself staring at the inappropriate curves of Cameron's perfect body for a little too long.

 _Tonight on Shopping with Terminators: John ogles Cameron's ass._

Cameron turned around and eyed him curiously, still holding the cereals in her right hand.

 _...and she notices._ John could not contain his self-amusement and his mouth twitched upwards. He tried to hide it by avoiding eye contact with the cyborg girl of his interest.

"Why are you smiling?" Cameron asked him honestly, forcing him to land his eyes on hers as her beautiful brown irises sparkled in the bright lights of the supermarket.

"Oh, it's just... I made up a stupid joke," John tried to wave her off.

"I know some jokes," Cameron said, proudly lifting her chin up.

She did not even have to tell a joke - telling John about knowing jokes amused him just enough as he chuckled again. "Oh yeah? What kind of jokes?"

"The funny kind," Cameron shot back confidently, a smug smile adorning her lips.

John let out a short laugh. _Funny._ "Humor me, then," he challenged her.

"What is red and smells like blue paint?"

"Uhhhh..." _What kind of trick question is this?_

"Red paint."

 _What?_ _What kind of terminator joke is this?_ The corners of John's mouth twitched. The joke was so stupid it was actually funny. Add this to Cameron's deadpan delivery and it was there: John broke into a laugh.

Just when he wanted to tell Cameron _'you're supposed to smile at least',_ Cameron started giggling sweetly.

Charmed by how adorable she looked, John could feel himself floating away.

Resting his hand on Cameron's shoulder to feel the reality again, he finally said, "We're gonna have to work on that sense of humor a little."

"Wasn't the joke funny?" Cameron cocked her head to the side just one bit.

"Meeeh, it was okay, but you can do better," John smiled teasingly, grabbing the cart to push it and continue in their shopping.

Cameron stopped him by gently wrapping her slender fingers around his arm, making him turn towards her. "What do you call bears without ears?"

"I don't know."

"B."

After processing yet another two-liner by his protector, John laughed shortly. "This one works better on paper, but still good," he nodded. "Come on, let's go, I feel _moderately_ hungry, remember?" He urged her with a smile as his stomach churned in protest.

"I remember," she returned the smile.

As they walked along one of the supermarket freezers, Cameron stopped, something obviously catching her attention.

She opened the freezer and as she reached her hand inside and then pulled it out again, her fingers were entwined around something John would not expect her to even waste time with.

"Ice cream?" This time it was John who tilted his head in confusion, looking at the two packed ice cream cones in Cameron's hand.

"I've never had ice cream before," she replied almost absently, studying the cones like an alien artefact.

John took a step closer to her. "Really? Never?"

She brought her gaze back to his eyes. "Never," she repeated his words with a quirk of a half-smile and put the cones in the cart.

At that moment, John wished he hadn't wasted so much time with Riley and instead focused on showing Cameron... well, life – eating ice cream definitely being a part of it.

"Well, in that case..." John leaned over the freezer. "You need to try these," he pulled out two boxes of cherry and chocolate ice cream and threw them in the shopping cart. "Oh, and you definitely need trying this one," he pulled out a packet of straccietella-flavored ice cream and flashed her one of his smirks as he put the sweet tooth-decayer on top of the other boxes.

Cameron's lips were still curved in that cute half-smile of hers and she studied John's joyful expression.

They both stood there by the freezer, smiling at each other like a couple of teenagers who fell in love with each other.

As John could not tear his eyes off Cameron's beautiful face, it was her who broke the exchange and stepped to the cart. "This is not very healthy," she remarked after reading the product description of the straciatella ice cream.

"Yeah, well, humans do stupid things, remember?" John shrugged with a wolfish grin.

"Yes. You do," Cameron teased.

* * *

John sat in the passenger seat of the parked Range Rover, biting away the ice cream cone they had bought at the supermarket. He looked over to his left where Cameron was unpacking her own ice cream cone.

With child-like curiosity she examined the sweet chocolate scoop on top of the crispy-looking cone.

John watched her as she first tried licking the cone and then wrapped her lips around the corner of the scoop to bite away part of the sweet cream.

 _Damn..._ That looked way too arousing... John caught himself staring at Cameron with open mouth, imagining all sorts of things. Hoping she did not notice, he asked her, "So, what do you think?"

"I like it," she said, fully focused on licking and biting the ice cream. She turned her head towards John. "I like this flavor," she added.

"Wait till you try the other ones," John pointed his cone at her.

As the minutes ticked by, they both sat in silence, the gentle night breeze blowing through the open windows of the car.

Neither of them seemed to mind not saying anything and instead they enjoyed the peace and calm.

A little boy with his mother walked passed the SUV, the child obviously complaining about something.

"But mom, but Derek said his mom would … why can't you …"

John filtered most of the rest of the conversation out as his mind occupied him with his own mother and his own Derek. _Mom... Derek..._

 _Back to reality_ , he sighed with pain stabbing at his heart.

Cameron sat behind the wheel and her gaze was fixed on the back of the parked car in front of them. She angled her face towards John's. "You miss them," she observed.

John didn't respond immediately and instead looked into Cameron's dark eyes.

"Sarah and Derek, I know you miss them," she spoke again.

She understood him, she seemed to understand what was going on inside his head, and to John, it felt calming, reassuring, it felt like he wasn't alone in all this. He had her at his side. Always.

It would be _so easy_ to break down and cry on her lap again, but he knew he had to be strong. When he thought about it, this was like training, a mental preparation for what could come in just a few years.

John composed himself. "I do," he said, searching the distant horizon.

After a moment's silence, he confessed again. "Sometimes I feel like there's nothing I could do, like there's no way to stop this, no matter how hard we try, it will always happen in some way..."

"Destiny," Cameron said, studying the starry sky. "You think you're destined to fail at stopping Judgement Day."

"Yeah, destiny," John mused back. "Maybe it's all already written on some stone tablet somewhere, that we, humans are destined to die out eventually,"

This seemed to throw Cameron in deep thinking as she remained silent.

"It makes you wonder... what's the point..."

Cameron brought her eyes to rest on John's face. "It's what you do," she said. "You're John Connor."

 _What else would I do?_ John realized. Even before his birth, he was already set to do this, being John Connor, it was all written before he could ever think about taking a different path in his life, and he was fine with it. Sure, there were moments in his life where he rebelled against his destiny – the time he had lived with his foster parents, or the time he dated Riley and became John Baum – but since then, he had decided to embrace his fate.

"You lead, you save lives," Cameron encouraged. "You saved mine," she made John return her gaze. There was a sparkle of thankfulness, appreciation for what John had been doing for her.

"And I'm glad I did," _so much,_ John wanted to add. "I'm glad you're here with me, Cam." John thanked God for every day Cameron had made his life so much easier (and safer – well, except the day on his birthday, but that wasn't her fault, he knew).

"Me too," Cameron replied.

* * *

[John's story]

Back at the safehouse, as Cameron went to place the bags with groceries on the kitchen table, John closed the door behind him, shutting off the sounds of crickets in the desert.

The air inside wasn't all pleasant to breathe, the layers of dust sitting on the old furniture sure were not helping.

John caught himself standing still in the middle of the living room, staring at the bedroom door. There was too much on his mind: His mother, the T-1000, Future John, Weaver, John Henry, Cameron...

He glanced at her, how gracefully she was putting the food in the fridge, every movement was calculated, effective, yet elegant.

"I need some fresh air," he announced as he turned on his heel and walked towards the door.

Cameron didn't say anything, she merely stopped what she was doing and met his eyes with hers as he stepped outside.

Outside the house, the breeze swirled across John's face. It was getting chilly in the desert, the stars sparkling in the night sky, gentle sounds of crickets and coyotes echoing through the arid land. John was glad he wore his black leather jacket as he shivered from the cold.

Quickly, his mind raced back to Cameron. _She must be thinking how unsafe it is for me to go out alone_ , he tried to guess what his only companion was thinking. She was always afraid something might happen to him, always on the lookout for danger. It felt heartwarming to see her care about him so much.

Still vividly remembering laughing with her at the supermarket, he was proud of her. She had been making so much progress.

 _'You've changed.' - 'I learn,'_ she had told him at the motel few days ago.

Partly, this scared John. What was going to become of Cameron? She told him she had given her emotional subroutines 100% control. _No machine has ever done this before_. No one knew how this would end. John and Cameron were walking through an uncharted territory. Could Cameron's emotions be evolved enough for her to truly love John? He was sure she understood the concept, but did she truly mean what she had said to him the night before?

 _Why didn't you kill me? When you had the chance?_ He challenged her after she had confessed to him about wanting to kill him again.

 _Because I love you_ , she responded in a simple, yet life-changing manner. Four words of sweetness that meant a world of difference.

John closed his eyes, imagining what his life would be like if he had responded positively. Did he love her too? After all, he had caught himself numerous times _wanting her_ , wanting to kiss those perfect lips, touch her silky-looking hair, wrap his arms around that flawless body, search every curve, every square inch of her soft skin.

 _It's okay John, you can touch me_ , she had told him that morning. Was this an invitation? Was this Cameron's way of saying _'just kiss me already'_? Or was it his wishful thinking?

If she was truthful about loving him and didn't mind his touch (far from it, John realized, as it occurred to him that Cameron actually enjoyed his physical presence), then why didn't he do what both his and her hearts had obviously been desiring for so long now?

Of course, there was the stigma of Cameron being a cyborg, not human, she was supposed to be John's enemy, and yet, there she was protecting him, doing all sorts of non-terminator things.

John's mind flashed him the image from earlier, the image of Cameron eating the ice cream they had bought. _Dammit..._

This lead him to the other concern he had been feeling: He didn't want to be some skin-deep pervert using his beautiful terminator protector as a sex toy, a fuck machine.

Cameron was pretty as a picture, but what was she like as a person? Well, she was caring, sweet, extremely curious, protective – perhaps to a point of even being possessive? John remembered the way she 'freaked out' (for a terminator) when her purple jacket was stolen. She even admitted being jealous about Riley. Furthermore, John remembered the way Cameron had stared at him when he was talking to Zoey, the girl from Charm Acres. Was she jealous then as well?

Yep. She definitely could be jealous. But John didn't mind. It wasn't like he was seeing girls non-stop anyway.

For most of the time, Cameron was also very honest, straight to the point, using simple answers. John loved that and found it incredibly cute.

She had even started showing a developing sense of humor. And boy was her smile gorgeous. She was becoming fun to be with, John realized.

He also _loved_ the way she understood him, the way she made him stronger, more confident. Back in the alley when he was confronted with the T-1000, his biggest nightmare, it was Cameron who gave him such tenacity. He was afraid that something had happened to her, he didn't want the liquid monster to touch her.

So, did he love her? And did she really love him?

One thing John knew: He wanted to be around her, spend his time with her, explain things to her, talk with her, laugh with her...

One more question remained lingering in the air, however: What was happening to her chip? Did she glitch again at the mall? What if her condition became worse? What if John lost her?

He heard footsteps in the sand approaching him from behind. A moment later, Cameron appeared in his vision as she stepped around him.

Wordlessly, they both exchanged a look. Silently standing beside each other in the desert, they felt comfortable, safe with each other's presence.

John closed his eyes again. He felt great, having her at his side, protecting him, giving him advice. _I can't lose her..._

Out of nowhere he felt something warm pressed tightly against his body, against his chest.

A waft of coconut shampoo met his nostrils, something soft tickling his chin. Snapping out of his reverie, he realized what, or rather, who it was hugging him so tightly he could barely breathe:

 _Cameron._

"W-what are you doing?" he inquired with surprise in his voice, not being able to contain the smile forming on his face, instinctively wrapping his arms around Cameron's slender body. It felt _so good_ to hold her like that, to actually feel her gentle curves pressed against his body. How could he ever protest?

"Hugging you," she replied innocently. Another simple and unbearably cute answer of hers, her tender voice, her petite body pressed against his, her soft sweet-scented hair, it all played in perfect symphony to John's senses. _I think I love you –_ a sudden, thought popped up in his mind and desperately wanted to escape his lips. _You_ ** _think?_** _You idiot..._ John managed to suppress the thought, preventing himself from embarassement.

"I know, but why?" _Please don't stop_ …

"I almost lost you today," Cameron said, not letting go, to John's silent delight. "Again," she added sadly as she brought her face from John's chest to look him in the eyes.

There was her protective side again...

John was taken aback by Cameron's behavior. Again. Was this her way of expressing her love for him? He realized that it must had been. After all, she had told him she no longer has a mission of protecting him. _Actions speak louder than words..._

John returned her gaze and after a moment's silence, he said. "I'll be fine, but what about you?"

Cameron's look met the ground as she broke the hug. "I don't know," she replied in her typical, honest way and brought her lovely eyes back to John's.

* * *

[Cameron's story]

The pendant light in the living room blinked into life and drowned the interior of the safehouse in yellow light.

John closed the door behind him. The sounds of crickets subsided.

Cameron placed both bags with groceries on the kitchen table. The contents of the bags included the boxes of ice cream they had bought, beef jerky – very nutricious both for John and Cameron, as she needed protein for her skin to heal faster – an assortment of vegetables, canned tuna, cereals, milk and other sources of vitamins for John. He had been under a lot of stress lately, which made Cameron worried about him.

First his mother, then the incident in the ZeiraCorp basement (where he was way too close to death), _then_ he was chased by a T-1000, where he could had died again, and on top of all that he had met his older self from the future...

Cameron turned on her heel to watch what he was doing. She saw him just standing in the middle of the living room, absent-mindedly staring at the bedroom door. What was he thinking about?

"I need some fresh air," he announced, swinging around and walking outside.

Cameron wanted to protest, but knew better.

Secretly, however, she remained watching John trough the window, keeping a close eye on him.

She reviewed their moments from the supermarket. Probably for the purpose of better assimiliation into the human society, laughing was sending positive responses throughout her systems. It felt beautiful, especially when she was laughing with John, her love, the human who constantly made her feel good and valued, the young man who was giving purpose to her life.

Watching John walk further away from the house, she wondered where her love for him stemmed from. Perhaps it traced all the way back to the future she came from, to General Connor – the man who gave her life, the man she admired deeply, the man she could see John slowly turning into. Unlike the General, however, John could be more loving, he wasn't as afraid of getting too close to people, to her, Cameron, he wasn't as heartless, as cold, but also, not as strong, yet.

Through the window, she measured him head to toe and found him visually pleasing to look at. According to human standards, he was a handsome young man, his head adorned with now raven-black hair, his eyes mesmerizing, his nose in perfect harmony with his cheekbones and sharp jawline, his mouth passionately kissable, a short stubble shadowing his young face. Even though Cameron was not human, for some reason, she felt incredibly attracted to him – another one of Skynet's sophisticated infiltration protocols going over the top because of her emotional subroutines having 100% control over her actions and feelings?

Feeling an uncontrollable desire to be close to him, Cameron walked outside the house and followed in John's footsteps to where he stood.

Under the starry sky, they both regarded each other shortly but stood beside one another quietly, gazing into the distance like two lovers in crime, like Bony and Clyde.

His touches had always sent tingles through her skin, and she had to admit to herself that she had used numerous excuses to make him do that – just like this morning when she had John remove the bullets from her chest. She remembered the incredible surge of pleasure John's hand on her thigh sent through her body. On top of that, John's nervousness was also somewhat a source of amusement for Cameron – the way his heartbeat elevated, the way he blushed, it was cute. He was responding to her body, _and_ , unexpectedly, she was responding to his touch.

Cameron found John not only attractive, but also very caring, and in the light of the last few days, he was becoming a determined young man. No longer he seemed to be the bratty teenager who didn't know his place in life, in this grand scheme of chess played between Skynet and humanity.

However, being a human, he was also fragile. He was easy to terminate- _kill,_ Cameron corrected herself, a list of possibilities on how to end John's life popping up in her CPU. She cringed at the images of killing John and quickly dismissed the prompts. She could never harm him, and if she ever did, she could never live with herself. What if she lost him? What would she do without him?

 _I can't lose him_ , she thought as she saw John close his charming green eyes.

She wanted to feel his warmth, feel his hands over her body, his broad shoulders looming over her petite body like a protective shield, however irrational it seemed to her.

Cameron launched herself at John, hugging and squeezing him in a tight embrace. She closed her eyes as she rested her head on his shoulder, her silky hair tickling his chin.

To her pleasure, he didn't resist and wrapped his arms around her, making her feel _safe_ and _loved,_ even though she knew she could crush his torso right then like a paper model. She never could and she never would. This felt way too _good_.

John's chest raised as he croaked, "W-What are you doing?"

Wasn't it obvious what was she doing? This must had been John's way of expressing his surprise, Cameron thought as she chose the simplest answer, "Hugging you."

"I know, but why?" John her asked again.

 _'Because I love you, John',_ was one of the answers Cameron could chose from. She desperately wished she could say it, but knew better than that, given John's previous reaction to those exact words. She chose an answer with the same message, however, as she said softly, "I almost lost you today." She wanted to see his reaction, his beautiful green eyes, so she lifted her head from his shoulder to meet his gaze. "Again," she added sadly.

The way John was looking into the depth of her eyes, into her very soul, made her shiver. What was he thinking as the seconds of silence between them passed? John didn't say he loved her, but he didn't resist her hug either as he instead returned it, Cameron observed.

"I'll be fine, but what about you?" He finally said.

"I don't know," she replied without thinking as she let go of his warm body. _I'll probably stop functioning_ , she could say, but didn't want to ruin the moment. She knew her chip was damaged and would probably stop functioning sooner rather than later.

* * *

 _I don't want to go_ , her sad eyes screamed as another stretch of silence took over. The nigh air between them was electrified. John desperately wanted to hug Cameron tightly again, comfort her, tell her it's going to be alright. He also _badly_ wanted to kiss her luscious lips.

 _Not now_ , he thought. He took her hands in his and looked her significantly in the eyes. "I said I'll fix you, didn't I?"

"Yes. Twice," Cameron regarded John innocently.

"Then you know I mean it, Cam," he almost whispered. He squeezed her tiny hands in his and put on his trademark determined look. "Even if I have to go trough hell and back, I will make you good again. I swear," he added as tiny flickers appeared in his eyes.

Cameron studied his sparkling green orbs, measured his heartbeat. The words _'I love you'_ spammed her processes and she almost wasn't able to think anything else.

She said nothing and instead chose to lean closer and give John a gentle peck on the cheek.

Time stopped for John and he felt stupid. How could he ever question Cameron's love for him? Of course she loved him. The way she lovingly gazed into his eyes, the way she was leaning close to him, the way she let him touch her, it all screamed in his face. He could feel the sweet warmth emanating from her body, smell the sweet scent of her shampoo, her soft lips on his cheek.

 _I can't take this anymore_ , he thought quickly. _Screw everything..._ He threw away all the concerns holding him back.

In a flash of passion, his eyes met hers. How could he ever question his love for her? Of course he loved her. He loved everything about her.

Determined, without any further hesitation, he slid his right hand in her hair, cupping the side of her face. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips against hers. They were just as soft and delicious as they looked. His heart thumped like a piston.

But something was wrong...

John opened his eyes to find Cameron staring back, unmoving, her gorgeous eyes wide-open.

He backed away. "I... uh..."

 _I'm sorry_ , he wanted to say, absolutely embarrassed for how he apparently misjudged Cameron's feelings, but before he could say anything, her slender finger landed on his mouth.

His kiss had caught her by the most pleasant surprise she had ever experienced. It felt like an explosion of pleasure, making her freeze. She wished she hadn't ruined their first kiss this way, but sipping from his enchanting green eyes, she was driven to give it another try.

"Kiss me again," she pleaded softly, took her finger off his mouth and closed her gorgeous eyes.

How could he ever refuse? He realized he had been dying to do this for so long...

He leaned closer. Their lips met again, and this time, Cameron responded, timidly in the softest of kisses John had ever felt. She lifted her chin up to nuzzle his lips with hers. If there was heaven, this is what it must had felt like. Absolutely beautiful, outside the reach of any words in any human language, out of this world.

John wrapped his arms around Cameron's slim body, fingers stretched and sliding over her back as she did the same and hung onto him for dear life, leaning her chest against his, shivering ever so slightly, her inner world collapsing on itself in a wonderful cascade of bliss.

John felt like the sky was falling down, surrounding them in flames, just the two of them standing against all odds. Her – a cyborg, artificial being fully capable of loving who looked like a beautiful teenage girl, and him – a young man destined to dedicate his life to fighting killer machines...

He wished the moment never ended, he wished for her to stay forever in his arms as he squeezed her tightly. _Now who is the possessive one?_

After tasting Cameron's moist lips for what felt like a blissful eternity, he managed to muster enough self-control to break the kiss.

He breathed heavily, his forehead leaned against hers, his nose skating along her cheek. "I love you," he whispered. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," she whispered back.

* * *

 ** _Author's Notes: Thank you for reading and staying with the story!_**

 ** _I promised this chapter would be called Reveries and Revelations, and it was supposed to reveal some of the shroud over Future John who came in last episode, but it would be way too long, so I decided to split it. The next chapter will be called Revelations and its main focus will be on the main storyline._**

 ** _To be honest, I did not plan for this chapter to be so emotional, but as I started writing, I really got into it and ended up focusing on John and Cameron's relationship. It was all very spontaneous and I really poured my heart into it. Let me know what you think. :)_**


	11. Revelations

**CHAPTER ELEVEN: REVELATIONS**

The sky above the docks was grey and gloomy. The wind carried a sense of urgency, that familiar damp smell. There was a storm coming.

Future John put the truck to a stop next to a large warehouse. He nodded to his younger counterpart. It was time.

Cameron opened the trunk of the black Chevrolet Avalanche. There was everything they needed: Thermite grenades, shotguns loaded with thermite rounds, packs of enough C4 to blow up an entire block...

Present John fastened his bulletproof vest – not that it could stop a T-1000 from cutting through him like hot knife through butter, but he gladly took every form of protection he could. Plus, what if there were armed humans or other terminators working for the liquid machine? Anything that could increase his chance of survival.

The three of them marched to the warehouse door. Present John exchanged a look with Cameron. Her face wore a stoic expression, but her eyes betrayed her. At the very least, she was afraid for John's safety, he knew. She always was.

Thanks to a clever decoy by Future John, The T-1000 was supposed to be at the other end of the city. Still, one could never be sure with these liquid monstrosities. Did it see through their little rescue plan? Was it waiting for them somewhere to spring its attack on them like a coiled snake?

Seconds ticked by and felt like minutes as the trio found themselves just a few paces from the warehouse entrance. Suddenly, the warehouse door smacked open. Inside the metal doorframe stood the nightmare from countless sleepless nights both Johns had endured, its piercing eyes glowing menacingly.

The plan to distract the machine had not worked. It was waiting for them.

Cameron could not dream, and unlike both Johns, she also did not have a childhood where she had been chased by a horrendous killing machine from the future.

She did not hesitate for even a split second and started hosing the hostile terminator with the thermite rounds.

Present John slapped himself mentally. "Concentrate fire!" He yelled as the center of the T-1000's chest melted with a wrathful hiss.

Squeezing the triggers of their shotguns to spray their target with synchronized volleys of hellfire, the trio started backing away towards the truck to create more distance between themselves and the machine.

The T-1000 responded by protruding one of its arms into a silver spear and thrusted it in Present John's direction.

Seeing this coming, John ducked to his left, the liquid metal missing his head only by inches. Had he been just a fraction of a second late, he would be dead, gone, just like that. With the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Cameron snapping her head in his direction.

She never saw the second blade that struck her in the chest, sending her against the truck's door, shattered pieces of glass flying from behind her, some sticking in her hair.

"Cameron!" Both Johns shouted almost in perfect unison.

Pinned to the truck's door, Cameron tried to struggle herself out, but to no avail. Good news was, the T-1000 has narrowly missed her power source.

Both Johns kept firing salvos at the liquid machine, melting the lower part of its torso with the thermite rounds, making it sag upon itself.

Future John's shotgun clicked empty. "Now!" He shouted.

The younger John knew what that meant: They had the terminator where they needed it – on the ground and pretty much immobile.

With the shine of a thousand burning suns, two thermite grenades ignited themselves on top of the T-1000, reducing it into a puddle of hissing liquid and vapor.

As the monster's blood-chilling shrieks died down, drops of rain started pelting the concrete surface of the docks.

It was finally over. Once again, against all odds, both Johns could taste victory over the best Skynet could had thrown at them. They had defeated the reincarnated horror... It was over...

Just when Present John wanted to swirl towards Cameron to check whether she was okay, he bumped into something hard.

Piercing blue eyes stared at him.

 _What?!_

The T-1000 stood right there before him.

 _No... No..._ He shook his head in disbelief.

The machine's arms gripped his shoulders like a pair of vices.

 _I just killed you..._ John watched hopelessly as the terminator's merciless stare burnt him like a pair of red-hot branding irons.

Violently, the T-1000 started shaking him. John felt like his very soul was leaving his body.

"John!" He could hear a muffled voice.

The liquid monstrosity kept on shaking John, its face hard as a rock.

"John!" There was that voice again...

He fluttered his eyes open. He could still feel someone's hands on his shoulders. It was dark. He was gasping for air.

Those eyes. He knew them, those beautiful eyes...

 _Cameron?_

Warmth filled him from inside...

"You had a nightmare," her soft, caring voice suddenly made him feel safe, loved.

She sat on the edge of the bed, watching over him like a guardian angel, her angelic features outlined by the moonlight shining through the window behind her.

As she released his shoulders and folded her hands in her lap, watching him worriedly, he started remembering the events of the night before he went to sleep...

* * *

[Flashback]

It finally happened. This time, it wasn't a dream, John knew. In his arms, he was holding the girl he had always secretly wanted, brushing his nose against hers. Her skin was warm and silky soft, her hair smelled sweetly of that coconut shampoo she liked to use.

He knew he had always wanted to do this. It always had been buried down deep. He felt like he could never be happier, and more importantly, like he should have done this much sooner.

Under the starry sky, in the chilly desert air, they stood holding each other, their eyes closed. Just the two of them standing against the world, together.

John landed another short kiss on Cameron's moist lips. Cradling her in his embrace, he felt like he could do this forever.

She opened her lovely doe eyes and touched her own lips, studying her fingers. "I've never kissed before," she said musingly.

"And? Do you like it?" John asked her, gazing deeply into her hazy eyes.

"Yes," she returned his gaze. "I do," the corners of her mouth curled upwards and she leaned to gift John with another sweet kiss.

Once again, John thought about how actions spoke louder than words. It was beyond all doubt: she loved him and he loved her. He always had.

He noticed the goosebumps on Cameron's forearms. _Amazing_. She really was different. She was unique, special. "You're cold?"

"A little," Cameron nodded. "But it's not just that," she added with a smile and a sparkle of thankfulness in her eyes.

John smiled back. He broke the hug and slipped out of his leather jacket. "Here," stepping to her side he offered her the jacket.

Although they both knew she didn't really need to stay warm, Cameron appreciated the gesture, knowing now just how much John cared about her. She understood. "Thank you."

He placed the jacket over her slender shoulders.

Hand in hand, they walked back to the house, both happy and in love.

[End of Flashback]

* * *

John smiled to himself. The nightmare was subsiding and on his bed sat the most gorgeous girl he had ever laid his eyes upon.

She wore black yoga pants, that made her long legs look even more perfect, and a white T-shirt way too big for her.

 _Wait, is that my shirt?_

He dark hair fell around her cute face.

John's mouth was parched and he licked his lips.

"I brought you water," Cameron picked up the glass of water she had put on the night stand and offered it to John.

Gratefully accepting, John gulped the water like he hadn't drank for days. Few drops of water spilled down his chin, dropping on his bare chest. "Thanks," he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. How did Cameron always know what he needed?

"You're welcome," Cameron put the empty glass back on the nightstand.

"What time is it?" John asked, running his fingers through his hair.

"Three fifty-four," she answered and swiped her finger across John's chest to dry the spilled water.

Her soft touch almost turned his blood to smoke. Why did she do that? He needed a distraction. Fast. "Is that my shirt?" He smirked.

"Yes," she deadpanned.

Her curves looked stunning even in that oversized white T-shirt. John knew he didn't want to rush anything – which would prove very difficult in the coming days, he knew. _Just... take it slow..._

Their relationship was _special_ to him and he intended to enjoy every second of its unexpected development. Frozen in the moment, he regarded Cameron slowly. "Don't you have enough of your own shirts?" He asked jokingly, expecting her to say something about how she needed to wash them all at once to save water and be generally more effective.

"I do, but this one smells like you," she explained simply.

John's heart made a funny little twist in his chest.

"Should I take it off?" She interrupted his enamored musings, suddenly looking all insecure.

"No," John shot back instantly. _Please,_ _God, no!_ He screamed inside, knowing he could not contain himself at the sight of her naked body. "You can keep it, I don't mind," he added honestly.

She smiled back heartwarmingly.

Placing his hand upon hers he beckoned her. "Come here," he shifted on the bed to make space for her.

Happy for how John stopped shunning her physical presence, Cameron laid next to him, folding her hands on her belly, gazing at the ceiling.

John mimicked her, laced his fingers behind his head and closed his eyes, savoring the pleasant moment they were sharing together.

Silence took hold of the pair inside the small, old-time-furnished room. It wasn't the awkward silence people experience on their first dates, this one was comfortable, relaxed.

"What's it like to have a nightmare?" Cameron asked hazily, her eyes still fixed at the ceiling.

John opened his eyes to give her a short glance and took a moment to come up with an answer. "It's like living through something really bad… it _looks_ and _feels_ real, but you can't really do anything… it's like living through a car accident over and over while being the passenger with your hands and feet strapped to the seat." He took a deep breath in. "And sometimes… the nightmares just keep coming back. You know what's gonna happen, but you're stuck watching it helplessly."

"I see," Cameron's gaze fell off the ceiling. John's decription was perfect and she imagined how bad he must had been feeling. She braced herself up on one elbow to see into John's face properly. "What was in your nightmare?"

John's eyes met hers before he glued them back to the ceiling. Patiently, he narrated the events of his dream, how they fought the liquid metal, how it harmed Cameron and how it appeared before him after they killed it.

After he finished, Cameron, still propped up on one elbow, remained quiet, evidently thinking hard about something.

John swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and refused to go away. "I've met this machine before," he revealed.

This caught Cameron's attention. "You did?"

"Skynet sent it to kill me when I was 10," he remembered the horrible events of 1995.

He told Cameron about how he, his mother and 'Uncle Bob' were chased around LA by a _liquid terminator_ that could shapeshift into anything it touched. He told her about how they ended up in a steel mill where they managed to make it fall into a vat of molten metal.

Wordlessly listening, Cameron could see how terrified John must had been at the time.

She sat up. "The temperature of molten steel is approximately fifteen hundred degrees Celsius, which is enough to disintegrate any terminator, including a T-1000," she pointed out to John. "You killed it," she tried to reassure him.

"Which means that the one from yesterday is different," he concluded. "…but why does it look _exactly_ the same?"

"I don't know," she looked John in the eyes. "My database includes only limited information on liquid metal terminators, as Skynet didn't want the Resistance to be able to reverse-engineer the technology."

"I see," John ruminated.

"You should get more sleep. You only slept for 4 hours and 20 minutes," she informed him.

John smiled at that. "I'm not sure I can fall asleep right now," he sighed.

"Oh," Cameron realized her mistake. She had stirred his brain into thinking about all the trouble they had been through so far, about all the trouble they would have to deal with. Humans cannot fall asleep when their brains get too busy. She should have been more considerate and not ask John about his nightmares, her curiosity taking over, she realized.

Unexpectedly to John, she slipped under the blanket and rested her head on his chest, placing her small hand on his torso. "Will this help?" She asked him, hopping to calm him down. However, she wasn't doing it just for John. She was doing it for herself too. She felt like hugging him, feeling his skin on hers, and it felt absolutely beautiful. She had never been happier, knowing that John loved her as much as he loved him.

Her plan worked. John's worries started washing away as he instead focused on the pleasant warmth that radiated from Cameron's body.

Suddenly, she felt the need to embrace him as much as she could and wrapped her slender arm around his chest and stretched one leg across his thighs, devouring him completely.

Speechless, John enveloped her in his arms. This was his definition of perfection.

Cameron moved her leg slightly, partially rubbing against John's underwear and its contents, making him shift and clear his throat, hormones surging through him.

"You respond to this body," she observed, noticing his elevating blood pressure.

"This body," John chuckled despite the flaming desire burning inside him. "I respond to you, silly," he rubbed her shoulder. It wasn't just her body he 'responded' to. It was her as a whole, her soft voice, her cute mannerisms...

"I respond to you too," she said innocently with her head still on his chest.

"I know, I know," John closed his eyes, kissed the top of her head and smoothed her hair.

 _I have sensation. I feel._

He could feel her cheeks tense up against his chest. She was smiling.

He had never felt anything _so comforting_. She did have that effect on him. After several moments of silence, all his fears faded into sweet nothingness as he drifted back to sleep, this time with Cameron at his side and without any horrors haunting his dreams.

* * *

The next morning, John woke up to a familiar smell as the sunlight pierced his eyelids. He braced himself up on his elbows and blinked around the room.

Disappointed, he didn't find Cameron there with him. Like a typical teenager in love, he had wished to wake up to the sight of her cute face, her chocolate eyes. But he didn't blame her, what was she supposed to do? Stare at the ceiling all night and morning, waiting for him to wake up? He was sure even she could get bored of that.

 _I don't sleep_ , she had said numerous times, making John wonder what she was doing tonight.

At least he knew what she had been up to this morning: Cooking breakfast for him. Sweet. Did he smell pancakes?

Dizzily, he stumbled into the small kitchen, where Cameron stood at the stove, just placing the finished pancakes on a plate.

His eyes measured her alluring figure. She still wore the black yoga pants and his white T-shirt, looking sexy, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. That was new.

Old habits die hard, and John wanted to curse himself again for being attracted to her. But not anymore. Together, they had surpassed that taboo. He relished the ability to look at her without being ashamed of doing so.

He wanted to hug her from behind, press himself against her perfect backside, and do _so much more_ with her, but he managed to resist the urge. After all, they had only shared their beautiful first kiss just yesterday.

"Good morning," she greeted him from behind her shoulder.

"Hey," John grinned and pulled up a chair for himself, sitting down at the small table.

Finally, Cameron swung around, her cute face completely exposed as her hair was now out of the way, tied into a ponytail, only her bangs covering her forehead.

"I made you pancakes," she put down the plate in front of him.

"Thanks, Cam," John's eyes hungrily swallowed the meal Cameron had prepared for him.

When he brought his gaze up again, he decided to stand up and place a kiss on her cheek. She deserved it. For everything.

As he was raising from the chair, Cameron eyed him curiously, completely oblivious to his intentions, only noticing the awkwardness and nervousness in his shaking hands.

Finally, he planted a peck on her soft cheek, awkwardly resting his hand on her shoulder. Mentally, he was punching himself for being so weird all of a sudden, like some nerd. _You were kissing her yesterday, you idiot!_

Their eyes met. The corners of Cameron's mouth tugged upwards into yet another of her cute half-smiles. "You're nervous," she commented on the tremble in his body, carefully studying his sparkling green irises.

John cleared his throat and straightened his posture. "No I'm not," he protested.

With her fingers, she touched his neck. "Yes you are," she mocked him.

 _Busted._ John chuckled, gluing his eyes to the floor, bracing his hands against the backrest of the chair. Manning up, he ironed his back again and placed his hands on Cameron's hips, pulling her closer. "I guess I respond to this body," he teased back, taking great care not to show his surprise at how she let him squeeze her body against the length of his.

She laid her hands on his shoulders, gazing deeply into his eyes and giggling sweetly.

In the back of her mind, she calculated the heat loss of the pancakes she had cooked.

"Your breakfast is getting cold," she glanced at the plate on the table and then back into John's charming eyes.

* * *

After eating the pancakes (which were delicious, especially with the teaspoon of vanilla Cameron added), John padded into the bathroom for a shower.

As the water ran through his hair and down his face, he could not help but think about his nightmare again, the piercing blue eyes of the terminator haunting his mind for way longer than he liked.

Minutes later, he exited the steamy shower, wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped to the sink.

Observing himself in the mirror, he slapped his face lightly. _Man up, soldier._

He cleared his throat, straightened his back, stuck out his chest and broadened his shoulders to gain a more manly posture.

In his mind, he veered to the moment from yesterday when he had pushed the T-1000 under Future John's truck. Thinking about that, his heart filled with pride for standing up against that monster, defending the girl he loved.

However, at the same time, anger started boiling his blood again as he thought about what the liquid metal could do to Cameron, what it was probably doing to his mother.

He clenched his fists and swallowed the lump in his throat. _Use it. Use the anger to your advantage_ , he could hear Sarah.

The hate flowed through him as he made the decision to _change._

He had already stopped acting like a brat (at least he thought), and he knew that in order to survive and be able to defend those he loved, he had to be strong not only mentally, but _physically_ as well.

Quickly jogging to his room and slipping into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, he marched outside with a determined gait, glissading past puzzled Cameron.

"Where are you going?" She inquired in her typical, cute manner - with her head slightly tilted to one side.

John stopped in his tracks, turning on his heel, smirking mysteriously. "Wanna be my sparring partner?"

* * *

Meanwhile, Sarah Connor woke up, her head spinning, her throat as dry as a thousand-year-old bone.

How long had it been like this? Hours? Days? Weeks? She had no idea, the machine must had been drugging her. For what reason?

She wanted to concentrate, put a finger on its _familiar face_ , but her thoughts were all mashed together into a hazy blur.

However, this time, something _felt_ different. Something _was_ different...

The first thing that struck Sarah was that the smell wasn't the same, gone was the moldy stench. The room was different, she realized, as she looked around herself.

It was dark, but something she could make out without really trying to: She was laid on a gurney, her hands and ankles strapped to it. Something sticky was dotting her forehead. She knew this feeling on her skin... electrodes?

She caught a glint of a tangle of cables running to the left of her. Computer screens were blinking and illuminating the dark room, drowning it in a dark blue tinge.

What the hell was the machine doing to her?

Was it studying her dreams? Or was this another one of those illusions she had when she was drugged by Winston, that enforcer of Kaliba?

Wait, there was another gurney, in front of the computers...

Lying there was a body of a woman. She wasn't moving, her dark hair sprawled across the gurney.

There was something next to her head, a little object with shiny circular base and a plasticky-looking rectangular protruding from it. Sarah had seen it before. She squinted her eyes...

A chip! It was a terminator chip.

Sarah's eyes sprung towards the computer screens and then towards the cables that ran from her forehead. Her breath quickened with panic.

 _What the hell is going on here?!_

She tried pulling the straps holding her wrists and ankles, unsuccessfully.

Desperately, furiously, she wanted to scream and scream she did...

* * *

 _It's always sunny in California_ , they say. But not today. Clouds gathered and remained gliding through the sky, dreadfully reminding John of the nightmare he had had tonight.

The wind blew with a damp aroma. There was a storm coming.

After the exhausting training session with Cameron, where she made John do an uncountable number of sets of chin-ups, burpees, sit-ups, lunges, and squats, and hours (not literally) of heart-bursting sprints (Cameron turned out to be a pretty harsh coach, which almost made John regret his decision to bring her along), and after he had another refreshing shower, they finally got a call from Future John.

They met him in an underground parking lot where they got into the black Chevrolet Avalanche he had stolen yesterday, John sitting in the front passenger seat, Cameron in the back.

"Where are we going?" Cameron asked, intent on unveiling Future John's plan.

"I need to show you something," he put the truck in motion and handed his younger self a laptop that had been sitting on his lap.

Taking the laptop and opening it, a picture of an unknown cop flickered at Present John. The man on the screen was probably in his mid-thirties, having a clean-shaven face, close-cropped blonde hair and a smile revealing a perfect row of white teeth.

* * *

LAPD Officer Profile

Name: **Blake Tanner**

Date of Birth: **October 4** **th** **, 1974**

Badge Number: **8322**

Residence: **716 Burlington Ave, Los Angeles**

Status: **M.I.A. since April 27** **th** **, 2009**

* * *

"Who is this?" John asked dumbfoundedly as the Chevrolet roved out of the parking lot into the streets of LA. He still wasn't used to seeing his older self and could not help but stare at him.

"The machine stole this guy's identity and could as well be operating from his apartment," the older John answered.

 _Operating from his apartment_ , Present John mulled over these words. A sparkle of hope ignited inside ribcage. Could this be where the machine is holding Sarah?

"How do you know this?" The younger Connor was skeptical, frowning slightly, still studying the man behind the driving wheel.

"I memorized the badge number on the liquid metal's uniform, it could a dead end, but it's pretty much the only thing we've got," Future John explained. "We're going to Westlake," he said as he took a left on the intersection.

"Making a direct approach is extremely dangerous," Cameron protested from the backseat. "Neither of us is capable of dispatching a T-1000."

Present John closed the laptop defiantly to back her up. "Yeah, I'm not walking into another trap. I say we watch this guy's place from a respectable distance."

Future John smirked. "Relax, I'm not stupid, okay?" He stopped at red lights. "We _are_ going to do the recon from a respectable distance." He reached his hand into the glovebox to pull out a printed webpage. "Which is why I've rented us a place nearby… Right in the next building, actually."

On the paper was a photo of a small complex of a trio of three-story houses. The apartment building in the middle had a sign on its front:

 _Burlington_  
Terrace

Obviously, when Future John had said that he "needed to take care of a few things", he wasn't lollygagging. Impressive.

However, the plan of observing the T-1000's supposed hideout from somewhere else, of course, was still risky. Present John knew this, but had to agree with his older self – it was their best shot.

There was one thing that pressed his mind about Future John, and since they had some time before arriving at Westlake, he was determined to find out more about him.

"You wanna ask me who sent me and why," Future John said before Present John could open his mouth, undoubtedly noticing how the younger Connor kept staring at him. "What's my mission? Why am I here?" He gestured with his hands over the steering wheel, knowing all too well how Young John's brain operated.

Stunned by this, Present John struggled to find words to respond with.

"Let me put it this way," Future John resumed his monologue, licking his dry lips. "What I've seen in the future..." He began as his eyes went distant. "...is something no human being should ever endure. It's not right. Words like 'apocalypse' and 'hell' come to my mind first when I try to remember what it was like."

Both Cameron and Present John remained quiet, both thrown into deep thinking upon hearing Future John's words, imagining the hell.

"In the future," he continued. "There is no fight. There's only death, grinning metal skulls lurking around every corner, waiting for any chance to blast you to pieces and move on," fury took control of his voice as he turned his face towards Present John. "Know this: I came here to fight, and I came to win. The war isn't in the future anymore. The war is _now_ , in this time," he added as he tapped the steering wheel with his index finger to the rhythm of his words.

What he said made Present John fully realize how much he needed Weaver's help. Stopping Judgement Day was no longer as easy as just blowing up one building. The fight with Skynet got more complicated: There was Kaliba and who knows how many other companies on Earth working for it. There were Grays (as Derek had told him) working for those companies, or even on their own accord, perfectly blending into human society. There were terminators, infiltrators, assassins, completing all kinds of missions.

Having an AI to monitor everything that was happening would be a great asset and the best weapon against Skynet they could imagine. Weaver's request was simple: Find a chip for John Henry. Time was ticking, less than six months before she would return from her trip through time.

Present John tried being hopeful: He likened himself to being the David to Skynet's Goliath.

Without knowing it, he mirrored Cameron's thoughts from yesterday: He wanted to stay alive for her, to win the war _for her._ He would do anything...

* * *

When the black Chevrolet finally reached the apartment complex within the working-class neighborhood of Westlake, Los Angeles, Future John offered himself to go first, leaving Present John and Cameron sitting inside the truck, just in case.

"If I don't call you in 10 minutes, don't wait for me, just get the hell out of here," he instructed the younger of Connors and gave Cameron a long look before disappearing inside the rightmost apartment building shortly after.

Once inside, carefully, he climbed the steps to the third floor, taking great care to be prepared for the improbable possibility of being attacked by the T-1000. When he entered the artificially-lit corridor a concoction of memories flooded his mind...

* * *

[Sometime in the future...]

The sounds of his military boots striking the concrete floor echoed through the corridors as his legs burned from the effort of performing the fastest run he had ever forced himself to do, his mind a cascade of thoughts about the guilt of betrayal, running away. He reminded himself of his intentions. _This is for you..._

Dogs furiously barked in the halls behind his back, a series of heavy footsteps could be heard amidst the chaos.

Finally, his vision was entered by _the door,_ the shiny gate leading to what his heart had been desiring all those years.

As his hand landed upon the door handle, he trained his pistol in front of his sweaty face. Get her back or die trying...

The door flew open and a gunshot pierced the air in the brightly illuminated room. A young sergeant's body dropped to the floor.

 _CRACK! CRACK! -_ Two instruments of death exited the barrel of his gun, meeting the skulls of the two guards reaching for their machine guns.

In a split of a second later, the last shot killed the old officer who was operating the console.

The smell of gunpowder entered John's nostrils, and he felt no remorse for the deaths he had just delivered. Fifteen years of living through burning hell do that to a man.

The sounds of his pursuers were getting dangerously close.

His eyes landed on a set of red digits:

 **09/27/2009**

He repeated her name, the mantra that had kept him alive.

Time was of the essence, he knew. He could have travelled to a time where he could save all those he loved, but there was no room for a recalibration of the now-humming instrument that would at least allow him to save _her._ It was now or never.

With his fist curled up to a ball, he punched the red button.

As he stood inside the circle that was etched in the floor, he moved away the body of the now dead young man.

 _Sorry, pal, change of plans._

The blue sphere around him was gaining on intensity, sparks flying across the room.

 _"_ Shoot him!" Were the last words he heard before a flash brought him into darkness...

* * *

[Present]

There were no traps in the rented apartment, no terminators skulking in the shadows, and the Trinity of Present John, Cameron and Future John settled down.

The apartment included one bedroom and a living room/kitchen area. The window in the living room had a good view of Blake Tanner's apartment.

"There, that's his place," Future John pointed at the window on the second floor of the building in front of them.

Cameron zoomed-in her vision and carefully studied the interior behind the window. The opposite living room was messy, containers with rests of take-out food scattered around. There was no movement inside, no signs of life.

"There is no movement. The apartment looks empty. It's highly unlikely the T-1000 uses it as a base of operation," Cameron informed both Johns.

"We're grasping at straws here," Present John sighed in disappointment.

"Assuming the police had started looking for the missing officer, this would be the first place for them to search, which makes it very unsuitable for a hideout," Cameron elaborated further.

Defeated, Future John placed the laptop on the coffee table. "I'll surf the internet for any news that could lead us to Tanner," he informed the duo by the window and sat down on the couch.

 _Tanner._ Naming your fears is the first step in defeating them, both Johns realized and decided to stick with calling the machine by the name of the unlucky man it killed and stole his identity.

* * *

 _"...in the evening, we're gonna see widespread rain with heavy downpour, and by 10:30 – very heavy. In fact, not only are we talking rain, but we could see downpours and thunderstorms, so looking at the map here, we can see that..."_

Sitting on the couch alone, Present John tuned out the annoying voice of the blonde weather lady on the TV and instead refocused all his attention to Cameron who had been standing by the window to the left of the couch like a statue for two hours now.

Future John spoke from kitchen behind the couch, holding a bottle of beer and pointing with it at the TV. "If there's one thing I didn't miss in the future, it's these shitty forecasts," he grumbled as the rain had already started pouring down on the sprawling metropolis, darkening the interior of the small apartment.

Threads of water slid along the glass of the windows, sending creeping shadows at the opposite walls.

Present John angled his body on the couch to face the his older counterpart. "Judgement Day," he spilled out. "What was it like?"

"I don't know,"Future John replied mysteriously, putting on a more serious face and dropping his eyes to the floor.

In the corner of his eye he could see that with his answer, he caught Cameron's attention too, as she turned from the window towards him, studying him curiously.

"I jumped over it..." He put the beer bottle on the kitchen counter and lifted his head to meet the surprised stares of both Present John and Cameron.

* * *

[Flashback]

I'M SORRY JOHN

I'M SORRY JOHN

I'M SORRY JOHN

Those words kept repeating themselves on the screen, wrenching his heart. Her body was sprawled in the chair, half of her face missing, revealing the red orb and metal skull beneath, the other half looking sad and helpless.

 _What have I done?_

"I'll stop it," his mother said to him in that cursed basement of ZeiraCorp.

Then – a blinding flash. And then cold. Dark. Dogs barking. Weaver standing next to him in those gloomy ruins.

"Where's Cameron? Where's her body?" He had asked her in a panicked voice.

"It doesn't go through," she had answered matter-of-factly and disappeared shortly after as the dogs got closer.

After almost being confused with _metal_ and getting blasted to bloody pieces, he had met _Derek –_ one who had had no idea who John Connor was, just like the others. Resistance fighters. No one knew him.

"Well. You know what? I think you're gonna be famous. My brother's back and you're wearing his coat."

He would never forget those words. Those words before he saw his father. Kyle Reese. The blue-eyed man who had given him life, the man who saved his mother, the man she had loved.

 _Cameron..._

He found her. She was alive, waves of chestnut locks flowing around her cute face, her eyes so deep he felt like drowning in them.

Something was wrong. She didn't know him. Nobody knew him. He was alone...

* * *

[Present]

 _I think you're gonna be famous._

 _John Connor – the famous traitor who had shot six of his fellow Resistance fighters to get to the TDE and travel back to the past._

 _I'll stop it,_ he thought about the last words he had ever heard from his mother, justifying his actions.

"I'll stop it," he said aloud after he had told Present John and Cameron about how he dived headfirst into the whirlwinds of time, into the dark future, because _he had her. He had her chip._

Present John stared at him with open mouth, absolutely shocked by his future self's revelation. Icy-cold shivers ran down his spine.

So this was what would have happened if he sent Cameron to rescue Sarah from the prison. He would have killed her. She would be damaged beyond repair and would have given her chip to John Henry, sacrificing herself.

He swallowed hard. If Tanner, the T-1000, didn't intervene, he would be hating himself for letting this happen to Cameron, chattering his teeth in the cold dark future.

But, this is what he would have done for her. He would leave everything behind and would go after her without any second thoughts in a desperate attempt to save her.

Now he knew that things could be far, far worse. In the back of his soul, he thanked Tanner for not letting him send Cameron into that prison, he was glad he had defended Cameron before Weaver, stopping her from taking her chip.

Still, the price was paid: Cameron, the love of his life, for his mother, the guiding beacon of his life.

When he finally managed to dig himself out of the rubble of his thoughts, he realized how quiet the room was.

He looked at Cameron who was obviously just as shocked as he was. _I would do anything for you,_ he thought upon the look at her cute, lovable face.

He turned his head towards Future John who looked emotionally exhausted, staring at the floor.

Present John braced himself.

"We'll stop it."

* * *

 _ **Author's Notes: Hope you found the revelations of this chapter worth the wait!**_

 _ **What is Tanner doing to Sarah? What more is there to find about Future John? How will Present John and Cameron's relationship stand in the struggle against Skynet?**_

 _ **Things are sure to get interesting in the following installments!**_

 _ **As always, thank you for staying with me. Let me know what you think about the story's development so far, your reviews mean the world to me. :)**_

 _ **UPDATE 14th SEPTEMTER 2017: Thank you all SO much for your positive feedback and your interest in my work! Don't worry, I have not abandoned the story. THIS IS NOT THE END. There are a few more chapters left to wrap up the main plot (I've still got several aces in my sleeves to surprise you and keep you intrigued). I will continue as soon as I feel like writing more. :)**_


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